The phone rings, and I get up to answer it, but my mind doesn’t work. Like there is just an empty mass up there, with fireworks bouncing about. It’s pretty, but it’s the sound that counts.
My hands start to shake, and I have nothing left, but my own free will, and the gravity keeping me here. The birds twitter outside, and I remember that episode of Friends when the guy shot the bird.
There is nothing left, but the morning clouds, and the dusk coming soon.
I walk to the streets and light up a cigarette. I buy a cup of coffee, and wallow in my addictions. The shitty feelings before balance the bliss afterwards. My mind is numb.
And I walk, to walk, and a being falls in place beside me. She doesn’t say anything, and she doesn’t have to. I don’t have to either, because she knows.
Knows what it’s all about.
She falls out of place, and I fall into place, into the subway, where the reality dulls down.
I step out into the sun, and bundle up into my coat. I light up another cigarette, and toss my coffee cup onto the street. Better than a landfill.
I finish my cigarette outside UPS, and go inside. The guy inside looks tired, but I still look worse. I don’t even have to look into the mirror to know. My eyes are red and puffy, my teeth yellow, and my hair is dirty.
I ask for a job application, just cause it’s somethin’ to do. He gives it to me, a carbon copy type thing. I fill it out right there, and hand it in right there. He hires me on the spot cause he has nothin’ to do.
I feel the need to run. To get away, but that’d be something else. My legs are weak and my knees hurt. Day old alcohol in your system does nobody any good.
I just want to feed my addictions though.
He rolls out a cart of stuff to take to the back, and sort or something. He shows me how to do it, and puts me to work.
$6.72 an hour. A pack of smokes, coffee, beer, and some rent.
I knew I’d be like this. Could have anything, but I don’t care much. Started smoking, and cared. Started drinking, and realized, and found my cliché.
That’s alright though. Cause that’s life. ----------------------- To quote Bukowski:
"unless the sun inside you is burning your gut, don't do it."
That's how this came about.
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