As these days go by
It seems as if I
Spend more time working
While I spend less time
Daydreaming.
When I was young,
All I ever wanted to be
Was a goddamn writer.
Now I’m turning into
A monkey at a desk
Selling complicated
Computer services
To people with
Suits and ties.
I daydream of
Traveling with Sparrow,
Cooking simple food,
Drinking whiskey, coffee,
Writing poems, novels, and songs,
With my best friends.
But chasing these
Commission checks
Day after day
Is wearing away
At my ambition.
If I wanted to become
A smiling man in a suit
Selling expensive things
To big companies
I can have that too.
Ever since my friends passed away
I can’t help but feel as if
Time is perpetually running out
And I wonder why making a living
Has always got to come
With such unyielding
Compromises.
D.H. Lee
(via Swanksalot)