Apr 28, 2005 22:51
I realize I have no concept of how long I've been listening to the phone ring.
How long have I been waiting for her to pick up? Are there really people in this day and age without answering machines? Savages... The screen on my computer flickers, you can only see it when you look away. By the end of the day my eyes sting, bleed, pusstulate. I lean back and something creaks. It could be my chair, old and un cared-for. Could be my vertebrae, bending and twisting under a weight they were never meant to carry, meeting positions they weren't built to assume. Physical contortion, mental abuse. These pixels are hypnotizing. Have I stopped thinking? Have I stopped moving? My blood still runs. Thin, all the way to the tips of my cold, exhausted fingers as they tap tap tap, creating something that will never exist. Perpetual exercises in insanity, worthlessness. Eventually all our breathing, moving, pulsating pieces will be six feet under, decaying and re-laying all the tasty morsels into the thick, damp earth. That is where I will make the biggest difference.