The meth addict called her a slut

where do we go from here
slipping off the side of buildings in my head
did Mexico drive you mad
will California make you forget of the home that you have
extending arms
clearing everything off the desk in one swipe
i never want your voice to fade
i never want your thought to leave
i'm caught up in a rainstorm
drowning in the flooded sewers
garbage
from the garden of dreamers
destined for the river

that freeing  feeling after getting a haircut
almost like a number 2 cut all over
everyone has their bags packed
the queen Mary is ready to set sail

it's simple really
i still care for you

i think about how you're feeling
new tattoos you've gotten
you're doctor visits
i hope you're in a good state of mind

did you get that apprenticeship
or do you ever think of me

maybe you wouldn't even spit my way
see me on the sidewalk and cross to the other side

maybe i have a dull
drab existance
but its the dreamer fighting in me that keeps me afloat
that glass half full attitude
if my car breaks down i'll just ride my bicycle to work
it's a 2 hour ride one way
but flying down hills
trying to keep up with traffic is freeing

i've not rode my bike in months
i barley watch shows or T.V.
play games

this call center breaks me
like they break Tennessee walking horses
cut
dry
call flow
"thank you for calling cvs caremark this is Sean, may i ask who i have the pleasure of speaking with today ?"
i think of these old people i talk to that are too far gone to remember what they take
or what i even said 30 seconds ago
where were they're kids
and why were those little shits not helping them

hitting the aux 2 button for break
the words and thoughts pour out of me
as fast as i can type
write
like a fire hydrant busted
gushing out into the street

clocking out to leave this evil place could almost be as good a sex

driving across town
words and thoughts still pouring out
i park and walk to Dominos
cling to every turn of phrase
metaphor
alliteration to alienate an altercation
walking up the street 3 blocks

clocking in to make pizza is ok
it's more chaotic
people can walk the fuck out when they get mad
drivers blow up and cuss
orders get backed up for 4 hour delivery times
maybe listen to some crazy new music
if someone brings in their phone
props it on top of the make line

i just zone out and shape dough
occasionally coming back
when a customer looses their shit in the lobby
or when the oven starts to crash
because i've stuffed 15 orders in
and no ones on the cut table pays attention

the walk in cooler is kept at 34 degrees
it's like a breath of fresh air stepping in there
refreshing

once i get use to a crew of people
they all quit
then we get a new wave
i have to crack them open
see whats ticking up top
see if they're a meth addict
a college student
high school student
musician
or someone who just got stuck in 3rd gear
and has no desire to progress
i've got no clue what category i drop into

walking home at night
i get to think of all the crazy fucking people i'd encountered
talked to
avoided eye contact with

feet are a bit sore but that's good
it means i'm not dead yet..i think

sleep

then it's loop swoop and pull time all over again
back to a vicious cycle

i really need to buy that
"hang in there" kitten hanging from a tree limb poster
tape it to the ceiling
who knows they may sick the dogs on me
woof woof