It is almost three in the afternoon.
There are bags jammed with unwanted things
Outside my office door.
Someone in the alley
Is putting some garbage into more garbage
And the 4 o'clock news is playing nowhere.

Another atrocity and backstab,
Another dollar.
Most days it's hard to tell what to live for
Except for the reason to, carry on.
Movement and progress
Reaching great heights
To show the world and the universe
We are living breathing potentials
Of our former selves.

How exhausting.

A dog barks to protect their owners.
Foods got to come from somewhere.
The parakeets are in full winter's bloom.
They never seem to get cold.
I do, in more ways than one.

There's a creaking upstairs.
Perhaps it's a pair of mice playing the drums.
Each crack of wood in this old building
Could be the end.
There's an earthquake kit around here somewhere,
But I worry sometimes I may be too tired
Or too much of anything
To seek and find it

To save myself.

The neighbors, they chat about the day.
Move a chair across the room.
A forlorn melancholy rolls over my eyes
When I think of dinner, hellos, and goodbyes.

When did it become mandatory to maintain?
When did it become commonplace to care day to day?
When did it become desired to be desirous?

Night falls and the pages flip
Or fill up or stay empty.
Another chair is brought across the room.
Maybe there's a dinner party going on?
They shouldn't be doing that but,
Well,

We know the reason why.

We know the reason why for many things
Yet
We accept the ones we wish.

And the wheel continues to turn.