scripting like pacing sometimes like dancing,
today like staring as time ticks on,
and the sun disappeared behind the office door
before it opened
and now typing and breathing
are food
for thought, or thoughts for food
and the hunger is for knowledge
at what this invisible wall is made of
just a simple line could complete the task
just one piece of script
don’t know if this next one could be
it
It started out like fun
And now flighty thoughts scurry
like mice against the nighttime chill
My lower back sinks into a weathered seat
the way a snowman sags and melts
into the driveway, once the temperature spikes
My inspiration dripped into the gutter
some 2 hours of my life (ago) that will never come back
when a quick stream of consciousness seemed like a good idea
but
before the promise of customization
took the idea of uniqueness by the throat
and shook it, and shook it
until this damnable attempt of self expression
turned into little more than a sad attempt at something other than what was meant to be
the inevitable hum of office equipment
telling me its past my bedtime.
tumblrbot asked: WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE INANIMATE OBJECT?
Thai Food
