I have little to say today.
My thoughts sink off from their posts to dream of napping on the firm brick of sofa upstairs.
Sailing on a large airy carpet, stretched under big windows and high beams.
The traffic noise laps at our commercial shore in waves of loud ugly whispers.
High tide in a noxious machinery sea.
Wrestle my slippery self all day in cancelled out strength.
The boring tasks aren’t as demanding as hopping the mental fences around them.
I’m a corporate slug.
A loaf of slow mucusy administrative muscle.
Today’s paperwork is delivered inside individual halos of table salt.
Inaccessible, but visible for a quick dull taunt.
Can’t tell if it bothers me.
Of course, enough to try and tell.
But clearly not enough to actually tell.
So whatever, another unseasoned leaf please…
...And maybe some more functionless coffee too,
I have a lot of staring to do today.
Feel The Physics
What is compulsion? A comfort unchecked? Sucked down and into when you fall through the cracks of your motivations. The taste you like, but you wonder if you really like this much? Enough for how little it takes. A semi-automatic hair-trigger spitting round after merry-go-round. The next is always immediately ready. A kind of absorbing satisfaction that distracts from the bartering trade off of time. An overriding warmth comes into focus, but in the back of the blurred frame a dark figure hangs just visible, watching you sink. And although your focus is drawn away, it’s peripheral imprint reminds you to feel the physics of your distracted descension.
Quit Vision 