A strange kind of intrusive ambiance; voices in several languages, forced laughter, technological functioning; human activity intermarried with machines. The volume rising perfectly in sync with my cortisol levels, I interrogate  my past for signs of the path that led me here; it remains blurred. I did not dream of working in customer service; but here I am regardless, moments of my life that I will never ponder again; a cascade of  the present moment repeating as long as my employment contract exists. An event-less horizon, memories are stillborn here and true ingenuity stifled. There is much and nothing that has led me here. It is hard not to feel like a horse bred for performance in this place; everything is monitored, quantified, reviewed and collaborated. Performance reports produced with the fervor of medieval scholars translating the bible.  I look to the sky, what else is there to do; only to see smoke alarms and aesthetically neutral lighting arrangements. There is art work on the walls, but is generic, created to defy analysis. The colouring of the walls is chosen to exude a neutral sort of trendiness; on brand for the overarching corporate image.

The convenience of crying,
It caters to the wondering
Presumptuously, others convince us of dying
Nothing is relentless nor meaningless
I find myself following the trendiness,
In a puzzling quest for happiness
I pass the time reading articles predicting my life
A destination we described
Predictable knowing is demeaning
I lost my appetite
What is the price

I want  to smash the face out of my head and spin it around until the room turns red,
I want you to know that i never cared about you or your lame game,
I want you to know your trendiness will only find loneliness,
I want you to know i love you,
I want you to know i need you,  
I want you to want me as much as i need you,
I want to die without you,
I'd like to cut you into pieces and eat you,
then you'd be mine....forever.
you make me want to throw it all in the gutter, and lick it back up again.
you make me insane.
I'll be great.....  without you. pessimist.
seducer.
false friend.
I'd like to **** myself and blame it on you.
then you'd be sad.
I bet you wouldn't.
steel heart of emptyness and lost dreams.
you crave the weak to make you look stronger.
I'd like to say i never cared.
I'd like to say i lied to your stupid ******* face.
I'd like to say it all to you.
but you're not worth my breath.
my air is more valuable than your life, the life's of a thousand tyrants like you.
you all can die.
you will too.
i am the one.
that's stuck here.
in hell.

Quayside in Chiswick
Where the sun makes a rare appearance
Her warm presence invigorating happiness
Britain-wide

She mirrors herself in a pool of algae, green liquid
Otherwise known as the Thames.
Her reflection?
A glint of the nation’s happiness, carpeting the foot of a passing cruiser-
Now water lapping against the quayside

And as the boat glided under the rough steel bridge
A reminder of industries past,
Of our nation’s heritage.

Now the sun tucks herself away among the skyline of West London
And the snug trendiness of Barnes fades away.
Yet the memory stays

Of nothing much else better than being quayside

I got 3 cute CDs - one a folk-country, the two others jazz
Some "different" clothes, with all their razz-a-ma-tazz
a box of diet candy that I thought was just dandy
and a nice Adele CD from one of the nurses here at the hospital
that ring a bell
Trendiness-wise in my subconscious,
a sweat suit from the state American Legion Auxiliary
So I can go out and jog with Hillary,
just kidding,
that would be too titillating
and exhilarating
for me
two books on conservationism that deserve some study
some toiletries,
two magazine subscriptions
for when things get murky,
nothing for muddiness
but then I'm not outside much.