Scrambling to get to the 81st floor.
Outrageous? Yes. But who could ask for more.
My coffee spills as I fly through the office door.
But it's worth the price, I can't live poor.

My office is the best. $10,000 conference table, oak cabinets, view of the financial capital of the world.
Five assistants, three for my organization, one for coffee, and the other is best kept secret, so the wife does not find out.
I make more than I can spend, yet all expenses are paid for.

Some might call me lucky, I disagree, I call myself hardworking.
Some might call me lucky, I disagree, word came in that my flight tomorrow morning will be postponed.

This means that I will have to postpone my meeting with my biggest client. But it's ok, because he needs my business.

I guess I can come in to work tomorrow morning.
It will be one more step to the top, to become number one.
As my calendar reads September tenth, two thousand and one.

The lake is colored a hue of purple, even though the retina is deprived of blue.
Freedom to swim, yet choosing not to.
Choosing to eat, although mandatory.
Funny how the world works. Especially while dreaming.


Wake up at 8, feeling like the amount in my pocket.
2 dollars and 47 cents. Illegally consumed.

Breakfast at 9, ****** eggs again. We eat in silence.

After breakfast I am forced to the yard, forced to smoke, with no gun to my head.

Run run, shoot, steal. Basketball used to be fun.

1 oclock, and I decide to read. Not much choice on activities, but a crate full of books to read. Yet what's the point?
Why fill my mind with wild dreams? Wishing the problems of the protagonists were my own?

The cell is colored a hue of gray, and yes my retinas can manage.
Freedom to think, no choice but to.
Choosing to eat, but why not?
Funny how prison works, especially when it's reality.

Wake up at 7, the nap was delicious.
Pockets are empty, and with two cigarettes to show for it.

Dinner at 8. Oh **** it, its the same **** every day.
Sleep by 9.

Tree stand high, temperature low
this hunt has never been so cold.
     This mighty forest bare no more than two souls,
     Destined for one another, someday? Much hope.

Much hope.

Tree stand high, temperature low
the hunter starts to grow.
     Becoming one with this mighty forest, oblivion melts
     like the snow on the pines. Peace.

Tranquility.

"the game is one of great trophies, to boast, to play."

Oblivion is bliss, and the hunter grows humble.

Tree stand high, high, high above the pines, temperature ever so luke.
Gray skies become orange, as the sun breaks through.
     the hunter puts down his gun, deciding to break tradition.
     The longing for the trophy melts like the ice on the creek.

This mighy forest is beautiful. Tranquil. Peace in silence.
The hunter climbs from the highest stand in the trees.
     Stumps, moss, grass and mud.
     Is the hunt more than a game? But one of true love?

Peace.

The hunter stays quite, at the foot of the tree.
True love became more than a silly trophy.