It’s funny how,
You once meant the world.
But now I can’t remember,
Exactly how things were.
I’m more focused on the future,
Rather then how things were.
And as those old things blur,
Those lessons remain clear.
Now it just becomes funny how,
I had to do so much just to get here.

In a clear lane you can only see but a distance
Even then its your judgment, what lies at the ending
So you can create and see dreams come to fruition 
Or you can believe fate, but I believe fate is fictitious
Pray with persistence but I set dates and decisions 
Plans for provisions, I took a glance through the prism 
Enlightenment lit it, I saw a colorful visions 
Business ladders where the glass ceiling was missing 
This vision showed my success standing on a peak
I had a glimpse of my future, a destiny peek  
Now I’m presented to the future, on my own two feet
I take a dive out of the nest hoping the fall’s not steep 
Hit the ground running, I’m like the hare when I compete 
He can grow from a lesson but the tortoise stays weak
And if slow and steady is really what you believe
That explains why I see no one moving but me

-Brickhouse

She fell for him; he tripped off her.
But for one reason or another
He thought that was love.

If he was granted another chance
to view his emotional absence
he’d see his trip as it was.

Seems we stand unbalanced, skewed 

By love matters.
Still love matters,

Was the lesson that he left with. 
More enlighten on the exit
to spot a fall if he felt it.

-Brickhouse

My waste bin is littered with wads of wishes
Pages filled with descriptions, of a life worth living 
A well of wisdom, over flown by a failed ambition 
I wanna do well but I’ve witnessed failures victims
Impaled, afflicted, overwhelmed, imprinted 
by the thoughts that faults bring when hope is missing
I have to believe or leave those wads of wishes, who
Were my only source of strength when I was miserable 

-Brickhouse 

Obsession I guess
I can’t rest like the rest
While my sneakers are squeaking 
and they consume my checks
Allowed to dream on the weekends
But by Monday depressed
Because my B.A has no meaning
Until I waste time as a temp
Working on an attempt
To pay off that ten percent
That sallie mae charges when
Your background is some shit

But with a co-signer you’ll get it
Because your 18 with no credit
So toss your hat in the procession
Your one in of millions selected 
To be out of work watching ads
For education connection

-Brickhouse

The satisfaction
I feel, these ugly habits
I spill, my thoughts sporadic
When filled, with liquid magic

That genius
It brings, inspiration 
it seems,to produce on a whim   
When I’m drunk with a pen

-Brickhouse

Thumbing through pages, smudging the numbers
That’s sort of how life is, from cover to cover 
My autobiography written on my skin
A scar is a chapter, a bruise is a misprint
Now I wouldn’t claim to have the greatest sense
But is it wiser to have more scars in the end
And if so, who controls what happens till then
The faulty man, the fault lies in my own hand
Ms. Cleo could’ve read that fortune before I phoned in
But what’s golden, is that the path I’ve chosen
Was less worn and less torn and more worth it

-Brickhouse