At 30 not working full-time anymore, 
No more jobs, morning commutes, cubicles, 
Useless conversations in the kitchen during lunch breaks, 
No more annoying coworkers, no more boss, no more job security. 

Lost the passion for life and
My path to a professional career. 
Lost the passion for success in life. 
Everything is dark and strange everywhere. 

Drinking my wine, listening to some old records, 
The music by the dead people brings back  
The memories of the life I have never been around for. 
Trying to write my first novel, composing a book of poetry, 
Short stories collection, trying to write something,
Anything. 

I’ve been fired twice this year from my career jobs, 
My shit’s out of luck, my luck is out of shit. 
I don’t know if there is any more sense 
To play the game and feed the system.
Fuck the system I say, fuck the office, the job, 
Security, 401K, the boss, the manager and the rest of it. 

I am tired of trying to become somebody I’d hate. 
I am tired of wasting the best years of my life, my prime time, 
My prime health for a fucking paycheck and recognition. 
I am tired to do things that bore me, do dull things that kill me, 
Things that slowly kill a living soul inside me. 

Bukowski wrote “go all the way” and he did, and he made it. 
I will go all the way and I will try to make it on my own,  
I’ll live for my dream, living the dream. 
Living the life of an artist while others enslave themselves 
Working and slowly dying at these soul-crushing jobs, 
Trying to build a career, save for the retirement,  
Put the kids through college, live by a budget,  
Feed their families, pay off their cars and mortgages. 

When will we have the time to live our lives in peace and harmony? 

I am sitting here in my room, listening to some old jazz music, 
Pouring the wine into my glass until full and  
Waiting for my muse to come…