It’s 9:47 AM
A post apocalyptic Friday Morning
Intravenous coffee soothes
The winter day is upon us
The jury is out on everything
Would not a log cabin in the woods suffice
As respite for the weary working drones?
What are the limits of man?
How is it possible that we all share the same delusion?
Weight Watchers and Coco Chanel conspire against me.
Everything and nothing meet on the sidewalk for a cursing match.
Nothing is the victor.
I ache from somewhere deep
An abyss in my belly
An unfillable void in an insurmountable valley.
Echo Bravo Charlie Tango
Don’t we all want to die?
Nicotine, my assisted suicide of choice, coaxes.
Never trust a dancer.
Balance and Purity sell crack outside my window.
Dead pigeons on my driveway, ten to be exact.
Isn’t this system a manipulation-
Am I wrong or just unjust?
If the universe is mostly empty, am I just a hole?
Parking in rows and walking in queues…
Mercy and bliss got tattoos and eloped.
My nerves are a million broken drumsticks.
I don’t think that I know how to love.
Elevator dings- Scan the room.
700 arthritic ape hands tick away slave codes on keyboards.
Toothy “I’m not a threat” grins on every desperate face.
Malice is employee of the month.
There is nowhere left to run.
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