The cool sun pales away in bright orange
The black cat strolls coquettishly on the concrete landing of the back of the Chinese restaurant
Contemplating which wall or galvanized roof she will grace next
Despite instinctively sticking to the same walls and roofs as times prior.
Me, a hated cliche at 28
Aimless, quarter-life crisis, millennial
The taste of mediocrity meanders in my mouth.
Guilt blocks and presses it's way into my ears and nostrils.
Funny isn't it?
That guilt begets guilt.
My ears couldn't hear my friend is dying
She smells so beautifully
I couldn't sense it.
Death.
Brevity.

Here I reek of indecision.
Feelings of grandeur, self importance, entitlement.
No action, just a meditation.