I’m stuck in between writers block and a ticking clock; there’s not enough minutes in an hour to cherish a day.

My eyes stay glued to the pages, that’s how I stay awake. I sit up in my bed and contemplate. The second I close my eyes, I lose 4 hours out the next day.

No breaks.

I’m speeding on the train, trying to beat late to work. They say you work hard then you play, but I sweat a little more on the playground because that’s my job day to day. When night creeps around, Im waiting for the sandman with my A.K.

A

Pen also known as my artillery. I’m breaking and entering in the memory bank of my own mind, Trying to ditch the reoccurring visions of what I thought was love at first sight. It took one night, to lose sight of who I was. So Ive experienced being blind.

That’s may be the reason when I recite these lines I have to close my eyes. I feel a pain in my chest, like I overdosed. Instead I keep going line after line after line. And realize that pain is only that feeling of wanting you when I coming down.

From this high. I’m sorry. My hearts a bit tender. Im soaring trying to catch up with my pride, whose trying to catch up with my ego, whos chasing after my mind.

See its not the fame I want; I want the audience inclined. I’m satisfied with being well known. They haven’t yet gotten the message, I’m ahead of my time, but behind.

I live in the moment. If my piece doesnt make your heart skip a beat, I dont own it.

 -Leighrick