Mornings are becoming mournings as I squint past my blinders; to see cycles of evolutionary category emphasizing my arbitrary nature.
Like an over caffeinated under-run animal in a neon box, I can’t bring myself to make my eyes wide unless I’m guaranteed what will greet me is the dark (with the occasional twinkle above to add a certain romance).
I am dazed and enthused: waiting and waiting; the room is making me feel dizzy.
While they might be sweeping up I seem to be getting fucked by time zones and other such things with urgency,
I am a kiddy pool!
Lacking in depth but drowning in bleach, unsure of where the hours are going.
I am running without destination, my lungs wheezing like a school bus loosing it’s magic. Stepping into the cold for mere minutes to feel anything—finding numbness.
Surrounded by all the dumbness and screens which scream, throwing bullets in my general direction.
Aggressively I sound out words desperate to know their meaning (with not even a cold hand on my neck I roll my ankles, foot by foot, bak to my little compartment where I will lock myself) unsatisfied with life’s behaviour and hoping.
For a voice mail; to show me what real life is like. Beyond my confusion comatose snow globe state, beyond this elevator music moment.
A glimpse to a life with melody, where I can feel my hands, where I want things, where I am things.