Author Information
The Workaholic
I want to get lost in the work
And feel the hurt of the Earth,
Shaping the mold the way I see fit
And lessening the lease I’m given,
My hands crack on gritted tools
That grip the castled edge
That work opposite metals
That don’t always win the battle
I’m washed in it now
Where as you see me as practical
I’ve been practicing another way,
The way of the work,
Pressed routine
And the dreams that follow
Piece by piece
I lose myself and who I was,
Casted dyes
And the lies we tell
The little hours
and the long exhales
