Disillusion goes down better with scotch

my dreams are impartial to me now
No different than a bag of trash that I
Have full intentions of taking out, but keep
Forgetting...

The dream becomes a back burner hobby
A "Sometimes" factoring of sorts, how you can still do it
But without fully committing, becoming a literary whore of words
Keep forgetting....

The hobby now, will not pay the bills, feed the family
Put the kids through college, 20 years of dedication
From pencil on paper, to ink, to white out on black stained
Hemp paper, oh the things i've seen and recorded all these years!

And time has spoiled the dream, growing up has dried it out
Books filled and lining my bookshelf will be nothing more than
Those piles of fire hazard news papers that OCD old ladies horde over
the years.

The dream will only be a dream, every so often i let myself be fooled
I could one day be a best seller, an award winner, a name on the shelf of every
Library, and perhaps i could indulge others in one more insight,
But, i keep forgetting...