Break time, I'll make time for those armed with please and thanks, not those who step on my toes and on my shirt and pants they yank...laughing all the way to the bank, I'd like to pretend I'm sane, but these thoughts seem to go in another direction, and I'm suffering from a great lack of inspiration or affection...I propose that we seek solice elsewhere, faraway where no one else will care, and when my concentrated look becomes a dull stare, you'll be able to recognize how little I want to share...but I'm fair, at least to a point, not where the pope would feel compelled to have every part of my soul annoint...ed. I've painted these walls an off white, in a vague attempt to make it look not so bright, but flourescents and cresent moons keep me up late, and when they wane in the rain I'm compelled to hesitate...to make ends meet, or make friends meet, or too repeat...or too repeat. I'm traveling by the will of my feet, but the fate of my soul to which my wallet seems to have grabbed hold...so now my "break" is over and it's time to break my back for another 5 hours I'm prepared to be attacked.
There, now I feel better.
