Pursued, pursuing, busy, and tired.

"There are only the pursued, the pursuing, the busy, and the tired."
- F. Scott Fitzgerald

The pursued:

Glossy, marble, cookie cutter jaw
Dental doctored porcelain finish
Pockets full, and clothes still tagged
Single malt sip and cigarette drag

Have not one, but three daughters
golden locks and daisy flowers
Hampton homes, church bell bothers
picket fence, void of drothers

Pursuing;

Happiness lies in a field somewhere
just beyond a restless shore
Pockets are thin, devout of change
love is lost, desiring change

One more shot, one more smoke
fills the insides up with hope
foggy now, and faded later
Alas awaiting destined fate here

Busy:

Racing, waiting, counting, pushing
traffic stops, and stopwatch drops
Carousel spins not once but twice
ticking-tocks the only vice

Almost there but wait a minute
only 60 seconds you cannot bare
Back peddling to another task
barely time to fill the flask

Tired:

Days are numbered far and few
mirror glances hardly you
face looks worn like captain shoes
Donning still the boy scout blues

99 days out of 100
time for one last final draw
Reaching deep into the marrow
This is the last straw

Man.