today was an alright day.


i just don't really feel like writing about it.


work is fine

but it's only a story you can tell once,
and it's just
i don't even remember any of it.


i go in for my hours and come out
and can't recall a single thing said.

just mumbling and a few faint faces and the next week schedule and other

tedious adjustments
and the fact the mop
is broken

and the dust pan
tilts to the side

and there's never any fresh meat-

but plenty of onion,

and all girls quit in 4 days after they discover that it's indeed ***** and
their acrylic nails aren't suited to scrubbing
tiling and grime.


and my sweat drips
and it still sticks to me.
and i walk home
and flip off ******* driving too close to me - challenging me for the fact that i even
wake up to this
and go at it
day after day after day

after day

after day.,,


everyone's a sadist   --

and everyone is afraid

myself included

but i still dream of flowers in the rain