I, first feeling this sunken heat, first
scraping this grain desert, first
sitting under verdant walls, I
first touching these rooted crags, first
tripping in the mountain's gloam, first
reaching this brackish fountain, I
first holding the ocean, first
drinking its salt poison, first
sinking to my knees, I
first trying to understand, I
first trying to speak
I
Sitting here in this pointless office, I wander in my mind to different places, different times, different worlds. Somehow it feels like the world is trying to erase my ambition, creativity and ability to touch other people. I dont know what to do with myself anymore, it is frustrating to not think that you are a machine, typing and pressing gray buttons to the rhythm of the ticking clock.
Some low whispered empty conversations, annoying mechanical phone rings, the night is falling down so fast you cant even see it coming. The windows are so dark you cannot feel the real difference between day and night, its all the same he