deepundergroundpoetry.com
Neurotypical Day
Today, I count the minutes until my shift ends. No drug can compare to the addiction of hate for the 9 - 5.
Vanilla melodies drown out the noise at the vending machine that is always occupied.
I've learned to fool the masses into believing I can relate to any number of subjects that are foreign to me.
If I stare long enough they may believe I have no secret to keep. Maybe not.
Knock, knock. Who's there? Not my attention, Dennis.
Vanilla melodies drown out the noise at the vending machine that is always occupied.
I've learned to fool the masses into believing I can relate to any number of subjects that are foreign to me.
If I stare long enough they may believe I have no secret to keep. Maybe not.
Knock, knock. Who's there? Not my attention, Dennis.
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