Wednesday, August 25, 2004

frustration.

work in a web company,
 on a computer that runs like a 386
without even trying
 i come off like a dick
frustration, what am i going to do with you?
 it'll take a lot more mercy and a little more grace
 to get me through

it seems the harder i try
 the less i get done
i am dying in this cubicle
 with no access to the sun
frustration, what am i going to do with you?
 it'll take a lot more mercy and a little more grace
 to get me through

You command us not to be anxious
 to consider flowers in the midst of complication
but it's hard to hear you from where i stand
 i'd like to comply but doubt that i can
so, steeped in cynicism, i remain exiled in this land
 of frustration.

frustration. what the hell am i going to do with You?
 Who speaks of home and promises to see me through

3 comments:

james said...

Come visit my cube pastor jeff. Nothing in these walls are stopping us from soaking up the fresh mists of the outdoors, whilst you vent a bit more of life. Always an ever-present ear...

Anonymous said...

I know how you feel. I too hear the wind and the smell of sun and autumn creeping toward us on scratchy dead-leaf feet. I wait for it. I wait for that windy cloud-scudding day where my soul is washed clean for just a little while...just a little while...

jamie said...

"it seems the harder i try
the less i get done
i am dying in this cubicle
with no access to the sun"

god, yes. Get out of my head.