Shoot..

A poem about a photographers journey navigating freelancing and escaping corporate life.

Empty is the head that wears the crown
Oxymoronic to think a time when such could be true
Coming to blows with your own mortality
Three Seventy Two stress keeping you afraid
To think you control a thing
Oh what a fool

I take the machine and point
In an instant the barrel freezes you
Only then can you escape the fiends created by your mind
So stand still and let it happen 
Watch as the sound takes your being 
Elevation, Elation, Euphoric Ecstasy
What is left to do? 

Repeat the cycle, maintain the buzz
If you stray, they will grasp a hold of you afresh
Finding the hunger will become a periless journey of self implosion
Do you want to take the chance?

Crowning the achievement of a vacant
Juxtapose yourself with that of a corporate man
You are not equal 
Level the playing field 
Amusing the masses pinnochio
Don't let them win

Shoot....and again to be sure.

Author's Note

pinnochio is a character that may show up again in future works, a character that will resemble or represent me.