Sometimes I sit on the ground of where I work and smoke cigarettes after my shift is over. You know just thinking about the days events and how insignificant I am in the grand scheme of things. Maybe I do dream too much. Life passing me by at supersonic speed. Maybe I just react too slow to things.
Who knows right?
The sun beating on my face like an imaginary boxer. Ignored, forgotten and banished from the lives of others.
I focus on the red of some distant flower. The only color I see besides the green of some poorly manicured grass and the shitty metal of air conditioning units humming away with its only defined purpose.
I wish for a purpose. Something, anything. I want to scream but all I can muster is heavy sighs and the sound of me exhaling my cigarette smoke.
Me
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