Back to Work

Back to work, back to the banality of daily subsistence. I took the passage back to my robotic schedules. I ride back on the trains of familiar strangers, at the same cabin waiting for that same exit... That portal back to the 4 walled partitioned cubes with only a window connected to the world via electronic fibre optic cables.

As I consigned myself upon the seat of a civil servant I tap the plastic medium with the familiarity of breathing, creating works of reports and searches to information for some to see and some into the shredding machine. Wasting my life to this national servitude and waiting for the impending paper race. I sat here, hoping for any defining moment that would make me feel something different. Something besides emptiness... Waiting for change... Waiting for love... A love that will never come to be.

Love has died, that is if it ever was a living thing. Along with it is my anticipation of freedom... Solitaire became my favourite game, and like every unitary leitmotiv, I’m just sitting here, rehashing every moments of before... Saturdays and Sundays became days of escapism. Staying at home becomes a repeat infliction of dolour. I wanted salvation, so I indulged in everything... Now I want to seek forgiveness, but what can a mortal ask, after all the 7 sins...

Tears became a momentary deliverance, yet along the discourse of voice boxes and elucidation are these writing I left behind...