Oh How I Hate A Hiatus

Sometimes I feel like I'm in a slow strangle,
Hanging myself with a necktie.
Resigned to a life with the living dead,
Inching our ways towards the grave.
Yet our inching seems to be fast-paced,
As we're all asking ourselves,
"Where did the time go?"
In our trajectories set towards the future,
We spend our moments trying to speed
Through the monotony of the day-to-day,
But stay slow enough to clamor for
Those instances when we're really living.
Oh boy! Do we clamor. Reaching
For what we want when maybe we shouldn't.
But what's a night with friends behind the bottle
Without a little hangover?
Or the cooing laughter of a newborn
With out the tremendous responsibility of a child?
So in our collective clamoring, we should strive to live
As much as our time allows, and do what we can to break
Whatever slowly binds our bodies in order to live.