On Monday, I woke up at around 8:30 and dozed on and off waiting for the right idea, or spark, to swirl on my head, like wine, firing up my neurons, breaking delusions, lacing my humdrum reality with any immediate purpose I could find – anything so long as it gets me moving.
Today, it’s renovating my station, and giving my professional facade a much needed facelift. I thought about black and all the pretty dark things I saw at the mall yesterday. I needed prints. Sandman. So I open my phone and type ‘desire’ on Safari but nothing comes up because my room is a connection dead spot and if I wanted access I will have to find it somewhere else. This is brilliant as a metaphor for my life lately, and now that I put it, it all seems so fucking eery. 8:56 and I’m still languidly exploring nothingness in the confines of my own bed, not listless nor reeling, just dead aimless floating. No use for redemption now, :57, I will be late in three short minutes, two, ah fuck. Time has always been a fucker and wow it’s 9:00 AM, by this time they will have branded me late any which minute I arrive, I better go I need a shower.
On Monday night, I sat on the stoop in front of my office building and listen to Frankmusik sing words that could never be more apt: “just another cliche stereotype of a little thing called love you can never get right, you can’t have your cake and eat it too. you be the mountain I’ll be the water, just another lamb that’s sent to the slaughter, you can’t have your cake and eat it too.”
I’m waiting on a vicious cycle that never seems to end. This is my life, my good for nothing existence and I desperately want out.
My name is irrelevant
and an escape seems to be in order.