(no subject)
i think its been raining for a few years now, and for some reason we still arent satisfied. and by this time great puddles have formed in every major city, drowning its residents one by one, so that the noise of traffic jams and car alarms is replaced by human cries. my best friend and i sleep on a couch downtown, the only relic of a broken past we were forced to leave behind for "better things". we work our nine to five jobs in some nine by five rooms, waiting to be released into the freedom of the night (which is our name for drinking as much as we can before theres no one left to tell us we shouldnt drive home, hoping to god that we'll find someone who will take us there and leave before our nine to five begins all over again), all this time following the necessary steps towards that white picket suburbia we sometimes pass on the freeway. and maybe this is exactly what ive always wanted, and maybe its the furthest from it, but it sure feels good to know that someday fifty people will gather around a hole in the ground as i am lowered in to spend the rest of my dead days. and i guess thats all the really matters, right?