the meat of america..

[wordstoread]

I sit here amongst the fellows and associates of my workplace and think about my thoughts. I think of and about a way out. I look at the wall to the right and wonder if its possible I could throw my monitor at it without the man next to me noticing, but instead I end up throwing rationality out the window to my left. But there really is no window. There isn't a window around either. There is a hypothetical window in my mind, and a mathematical gun to my head.

The shadow cast by the city lights of corporate america is curving into an alley where screams of torture emit, and fresh blood flows into a sewer, where I find myself getting fucked... barbeque style.

To be continued.