Tired of being tired

Tired of being tired:

Looking forward was not the path I had foreseen
Now I'm backpacking on active duty of an ocean view gone marine
Where tides will rise like detergent bubbles from drain pipes
And fall like the sun in a color schemed horizon
And flight is not necessary when I have the ability to soar
Along the eyes of a cloudscape ever-changing its core
Maybe I just need to sleep more
Or stop waiting for morning while the night is being born
In a word
Or a sentence
In the act of self repentance
In the streets where we relieve ourselves behind picket fences
And find not a drop of dignity in the ripples of those puddles made
But zipper down and no one around we still unleash a cascade
Then finish the race back to locked doors and safety
Where intoxication can flourish in a comfortable state
But I equate love with that feeling of inebriation
Able to lose control and spill out my soul at the drop of a tip to paper
Paste my heart to the swing of a haymaker
And a left hook that shakes me to cardiac detainment
Handcuffed by an artery cut and veins no longer flavored
By the kiss of love in the slip of blood that drains from lips bitten tastefully
For we all are the crazy that lurks in the face of death
We just hide it better than most could ever expect
We all know the truth and yet we continue to invest
Our youth, our gratitude, and our service to oppression
Well I'm tired of learned lessons being repeated due to second guessing
I'm tired of thinking that one day it will get better
I'm tired of being tired of being tired do you get it?
Another cigarette turns to spent ember while fingers are forging questions
Hammering the steel of broken addiction into feelings
And searing burns for what their worth into skin that just finished healing
My scars are an art form
Made from the creativity of hatred
No matter how many canvases I've tried to transfer them to
They always find their way back into the paint
So I waste paper
And I waste time
On a daily basis im not fine
And if I wanted to replace these moods with one of a kind bruises
I would just go back to my former life
But I didn't rise from the deep to be pulled back to its leagues
I didn't find my identity through experience to lead an army into defeat
No
I'm better than I want to let myself be
But still weathering storms of depression that keep feeding
When the wind shifts
And the paychecks dwindle
And I'm left wondering Where I'd be if I could just wake up happy
If I could justify that tragedy is not the dream I carry
And open my arms to embrace the sun instead of facing a cemetery
So now I'll sleep
Now that the pack of reds is empty
Now that the ashtray is full of too many
Now that my eyes are distilled with the minerals of pages filled
And my thoughts can rest in traffic left For
Dreams