That job, and the Bed.

A collection of words about my bed and my lack of interest in a job.

I wake up, most days, too late
to do anything
and too early to fall
asleep again.
Everyday I say "This is it. My chance
to do something beyond my bed."
Twenty-one is approaching pretty
fast,
and i'm a long way off.

I still think about the time
when i can say "Dad, I did it."
Too much faith from one man
to another.
I can't help but feel like i've
cheated.

Everyone's grown up.
They go to work, college, university,
just to spend free time
chasing something they'll never have,
and sometimes, not deserve.

I still don't know what
it really is i'm looking for.
Not bothered when or where
it will come.
I stand content with
just writing.
Good things dont
come to those who do
nothing.
So do something.