Snooze

Waste away each day
succumbing to old habits
spent the afternoon
chasing clever rabbits
shifting sticky gears
clutching broken records
paying my fair share
on dilapidated presence
it's useless air anyway
until we run out of it
it's ironic when we evolve
and finally don't need it
it's heavy and it's vibrant
at least on the outside
to me, it's just a dream
we may never wake from.
I feel like I'm in a dream that I may never wake from.