Steve sat there, in front of his desk. Unsure of what to do. He had been looking through websites all morning and hadn't gotten anything done. He was wondering why he felt so distracted. Was it because his work didn't interest him anymore or that he just wasn't interested in life. A few more moments go and his boss walks by, he quickly shuts down his internet browser and tries to look like he is working. "What's wrong with me?" he thinks. Usually he's had a pretty good work ethic but as of late he couldn't even muster to move his mouse or pencils very long without day dreaming. He had lost his edge, his motivation, his fire. Where to get that fire he wondered? There was always that good looking clerk down the hallway. He wondered if he was lonely and needed companionship. Maybe that's what it was, or maybe he just needed another energy drink. At times like these he felt less and less motivated, thinking way too hard about what to do next. His creativity had hit a block. He was down onto his last life and wasn't fighting very hard. What was he to do? The only thing he could do, put his head down and fight his way back into his work and pull through. What happens next?
So there's a knock on the door. It's three wise men. They say hey lady we're here to pick up your kid...he's going to be the next Dalai lama and woman, the mother of the kid says, no you're not. My kid aint going nowhere, let alone someplace to be the Dalai Lama. Can't help it lady all the signs point to right here this house you people this boy. He's the next Dalai Lama like it or not. Albert, the woman yells out to someone at the back of house. Some people her saying Ned's going to be the next Dalai Lama. A voice from the back of the house yells back. Tell em they're dreamin. You're dreamin the woman tells the 3 wise men...and shuts the door in their face. Ned she yells, time for dinner!
Two guys standing across from each pointing guns at each other one of them saying I want peace so I'm going to kill you and other guy says hey me too I want peace so I'm going to kill you first, then a little bird drops into the frame and says hey you guys are nuts, you're setting up a stupid situation in which only thing accomplished is a lot of shot dead people...forever and ever.
Stack the teeter tottering commerce packages. Reduce the neon fever fantasy. Awaken drunk from midnight beverage choices. Happy people flood the commerce store. Sad people sleep in late to resist the waining morgue. I see mothers without their lovers. I see women without their grandkids. I see men too old to wed. They're all flooding the commerce store. Aching backs cause bad posture. Enthusiasm for one's daughters. Crinkled papers mock the lever. Just because it rhymes doesn't mean it's clever. I hate this sludge that lames my thoughts. I hate this fog that mocks my gods. I hate this angst that drugs my muses. Inconsiderate spirits, boozing floozies. I just want a room to write my stories. Someplace alone that opens early mornings.
I had this dream once in the middle of the night when I was a kid on my way downstairs to take a piss because toilet upstairs was not hooked sittin there for looks i guess when we had company cause they'd think better of us if we had a toilet at least in place even though it didn't work but then they wouldn't know that unless they asked and they never would because it would be important enough question to ask about somebody else's toilet...anyway I had this dream...a guy greeted me by tipping his hat when I went into the toilet and he tipped his hat to me again when I came out. I didn't think much about it until years later when I was going into a real important place and the same guy in real life tipped his hat to me the exact same way. My life change that very second. Thanks God.