My dream ends where the universe begins.
And as far as I’m concerned, it never did.
My mind explodes like the big bang, but my success isn’t a theory.
For every doubt I don’t hear and for every doubt that hovers on the dark side of my moon.
My gravity pulls the ocean and exposes your lack of faith.
I find it disturbing.
Let the pendulums swing back and forth until that sound makes sense to you.
The clock struck twelve thirteen hours ago.
And it hasn’t moved since then.
It’s waiting for me to turn the gears.
Waiting for me to get moving.
The path of failure is the counterweight to my success.
Though they both weigh about the same at this point.
I’ve been losing weight recently.
I don’t eat as much bread as I use to.
Ever since I found out it doesn’t really soak up the alcohol.
And the alcohol doesn’t really soak up my problems.
It just bakes them until their perfectly done.
Food for an empty stomach.
Drink for an empty mind.
I have to fill it with something other than ideas.
I’d hate to drown in my own ambition.