Neverending Story

It could just be,

The closest thing,

To perfect, but still,

The world fits,

So many disgusting things,

I'm still not an architect,

Maybe its random,

People are evil,

But I still think,

We’re all assigned,

A place in the world,

I think we’re allowed,

The food set before us,

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To contain our hunger,

Maybe its been measured,

Allowed so that we don’t,

Ruin the arrangement,

Accidentally, eat something,

Better, much better,

Maybe our eyes,

Are always drawn,

To the next meal,

An impossible desire,

Maybe no matter how good,

The food that we’re eating,

It will never truly satisfy us,

Maybe god is jealous,

So he places heaven,

In the unlikeliest places.

Satisfaction

Satisfaction, is such a heavy thing,

A weighted blanket,

Comforting you, sapping,

The life out of you,

A stagnant pool,

Maybe we’re all doomed,

To settle, but what happened,

To the fire, do we not need it,

Anymore, you know,

If we yearned for it,

There is always more.

Following the Flow

I could be a good poet,

Its weird to think,

Almost no effort goes into this,

I could be a more romantic person,

But its like I'm on stage,

All I say is bad jokes,

Whatever, not my problem,

I've always thought of this as a job,

A sort of responsibility, I'm just a tool,

Recording things, its sort of,

More like a diary, and yeah,

Some of it gets a little nasty,

A little dirty, a little succulent,

A little horny, still not my problem,

It just follows the energy,

I'm usually baked when it all goes down,

Half the time, I don’t even know what I’m writing,

I just jump in head first, with no inclination,

I read it after, realize what its about,

Then give it a name, like I said,

Almost no effort goes into this,

God writes most of it.