her name is ...

 I've been thinking a lot about why I do the things I do. Sometimes I do things because I want to. Sometimes I do things because I feel I have to. Is it okay to prioritize one over the other? I certainly have been lacking in my empathy for duty these days... nowhere in the natural universe are we told that we owe anything to anyone. I am trying to be an instinctual being, that's all. That doesn't make me a hedonist, just someone unwilling to compromise certain desires. Take babies (ok only one Freud reference, promise) - a complete manifestation of human instinct at its purest. They don't care about other babies. They want their mother's breasts to feel full and toys to keep them entertained, and that's pretty much the good life for them. And it's acceptable. We love babies.  We don't call them hedonists. We think they're the most perfect things that ever existed. Then they grow up, get "civilized" into constraining their desires and redefining themselves with the words of others. We have time and we have space. We ponder, we consume, we want to make the most out of them, but again, we follow what others have taught us to believe.... and we forget or never even attempt to find what it is we really want...

What is wasted time? When I sit in my room and play my guitar for two hours, I feel good. My voice doesn't make towers fall or angels sing, and my singing career is not going anywhere further than drunken nights singing a cold and broken Hallelujah, but when I sing I am alive, my voice reverberates through the millions of molecules in the air and I am everything and everything is me. Time not wasted. Then I have the time I spend at college (time worth well over $40,000 a year), trapped in the arms of a monster who wants to package me and ship me to some office job somewhere sometime. Man, when I think how much I could have done with those $40,000... Wasted time, money, and effort. Time passes and I'm losing brain cells, and I'm not getting closer to where I want to be. But where do I want to be? On the road with some gypsies somewhere? Why does that sound so appealing to me? Why do I like getting lost? I want to lose myself without a worry in the world, like in our dreams, where everything just feels like it's floating, like breathing and sensations are enough to make everything worthwhile. Or at least something makes everything worthwhile. Where you are connected, but disentangled. Will I ever have the guts to pack my bags and leave? Or will I go on eating and sleeping and reading about "The Best 500 places to visit before you die" over and over again until my body rots and my mind falls asleep for good? I hate familiar things. I want everything to be new all the time. I want faces to be kind, and people to be simple and untainted by what I know about them. I want to know nothing. I want only to live and sing and climb mountains all the way up to heaven. Even though heaven does not exist. But that is irrelevant. And so is life.

She pulls me down into the sand
and whispers into my mouth
all the vapor from her dreams
that she's been taught to forget.
It tastes so sweet but it burns burns burns,
like hidden pages in a book I never read,
with dragons and chiming clocks, SO LOUD THEY MAKE ME CLOSE MY EYES AND HOPE TO DISAPPEAR-
and witches cast spells to lure you to sleep...
and the wind, her love, runs because he is afraid..  
They are all afraid...
her name is Time, 
and she is trying to steal the air out of our lungs.