Losing our Breath

We tend to be bound in blissless repetition. Stuck on semi-automatic living; our passions exchanged for paychecks and a pedigree lifestyle we can't afford but pursue in tepid hopes of  happiness. A consumers wet dream- the never ending need for more-and I bet they sell it at your local superstore, but where can I cash in on reality? Wake. the fuck. up. Drones are not alive. Conformists rule the world, but as in most cases, the majority are akin to lemmings jumping one by one off the edge, until the bodies pile high enough to see our self destruction. Why be content to lay idol in the wake of miraculous opportunity-right there before you-everything you need. And who is telling you no? Mother nature will wipe us out if we keep convincing ourselves we are happy trapped inside our concrete boxes, plugged in but tuned out, and oblivious of the fact we can not keep running this fast without losing our breath. When does reality occur? When we wake the fuck up.