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Printed from https://shop.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1149709-Post-College-Stress-Disorder
Rated: 18+ · Poetry · Opinion · #1149709
This is for everyone that went to college and grinds out the rent.
You ever get tired of your same ole everyday?
You ever wake up one day thinking about life and say to yourself, "God Damn, how the fuck did I get here?"
Well I have, and I'll tell ya what....
The trip I had to this time and place in space was at a break neck pace,
Partyin' 24/7 like I died and went to heaven.
I was bullet proof and on the loose but I was in the middle of a boozy haze, my money set ablze by time and a phase I was going through.
Some people think my function was self-destruction, that my introduction to the twenty-something lifestlye was excessive and vile.....who knew self destruction could make a man smile...and man....it's certainly been a while...
Times change when the party slows down.
Your friends strat to disappear into thin clear air into which you often stare with wide wonder at the thunder you hear....
That sound is societies future smashing past you with it's Master's level expectations put forth upon college graduation which used to be important until upper crust Americans began contorting the social bar for those fortunate enough to pass....
Well, I say fuck you world, you can kiss my ass!!
See, I've come too far, gotten too many scars in college bars while fighting the cookie cut frat about about who his high class hooker girlfriend likes better....it's always him...he's going to graduate school.
Ten to one on me says I can do anything those privledged pricks can do but I don't get the chance to have mommy & daddy finance my future till I'm done fucking around on collegiate playgrounds.
If they came into my neck of the woods, life would hand'em beat downs.
I got my degree...which is usless anyway...
B.S. in recreation?? come on....
A degree like that wouldn't do shit at bat in a race ruled by rats,
where dollars give paper cuts and ties slither into nooses around the necks of taylored soliders.
Nah, my life's geared more towards the beach...
I'd like a spot in the sand next to a fine woman whose nice and tan drinking Corona while playing in a blues bar band....I'm supposed to be that guy.
Not some guy stuck in jerk neck PA working for an evil company while struggling to stay straight on a road that's bumpy. This shit ain't supposed to happen to me.
I should be far from here where the crowd's would cheer and the sun would say goodnight to me every morning.
Glorious sunlight, bright as hell in the morning as I'm getting ready for bed yawning...
"His was the life of legend" people'd say, about this cat who had the blues and could play'em smooth.
One thing's for sure, livin here....my life won't go that far.
No answers to my prayers....huh......I guess God doesn't play guitar.
© Copyright 2006 James Patrick (jayirish at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://shop.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1149709-Post-College-Stress-Disorder