Your mid 40’s are a great time to wake up and realize you’ve wasted your life. You sit on the side of your bed and your feet dangle, its strange you could’ve sworn your big toes would meet the ground with that same pace as your slowly decomposing conscious, but they dont, and you catch a spark that flies through your brain. It’s going to be a great day. You lower yourself into your pink washed slippers that are comprised of holes and tatters for the most part, you should buy a new pair. But the office awaits that cubicle calls your name, beckoning to you with its disgusting grey pattern. It says “Come closer, come, closer. You shall feed me today, I shall be your muse, your motivation for calculation for numbers and tallies all the like.” and it continues to jumble and jump and prod at your comfort level until you’re bare and numb to the pain of “working”, and now you can only recognize it as that, working. The grinds float to the top and the instant coffee that you bought trickles down the back of your throat like an ice cube that freezes your esophagus, and it continues on, shutting down your heart, the illuminated vortex that no one can seem to fill. That no one can plug with a blue handkerchief that shall stop it from sucking up every single organ in its surrounding area, but you need someone to do that for you because your nicely folded chief sits in your breast pocket and shall be nowhere near the desolate area that needs to be filled somehow. You reach for the door and commute for hours on end driving, just driving, maybe you’ve past your building, but your hopes are quickly denied as you see exit 34 coming up in one mile. You turn off and don’t mind that the red Porsche doing 93 labeled K-O-O-L-K-I-D cut you off and wrestled its way back into traffic to showcase even more feats of insanity and genuine fun. Your building seems to resemble the one you saw in that movie, oh what was it? King Kong! You take a moment to ponder the idea of moving to wherever that might be, and climbing to the top to then showcase your feats of insanity, maybe you shouldn’t say that plural because jumping is a singular action, in this case. Your legs although stalky, again do not reach the floor as you poke them out of your car door and you can’t understand why but its unimportant and the brick building stands adjacent to your parking space, leaning over in spite of you. Your privacy was never there. You see the collection of sheep that herd through those office doors, the ones that swing clockwise rotating in a fashion that will disorient any human that is capable of any basic thought process, but not you, you are the spotted goose in the pond of mallards and you’ve been trained to do exactly not what you were meant to do. The beauty behind your thought process is that you were never able to understand you are a perception, so you spend allotted amounts of time on Thursday trying to better your introverted personality, so that you could say you are beautiful. But as people look on all they can see is a sad little man, with his thumbs that dangle outside of his front pockets and a wallet that protrudes awkwardly from his “casual Friday” denim jean butt. This is now and you’re so upset that you cant even begin to face your so called peers, whose only intent is to judge and scale up and down. There is something wrong with you, but oh, you don’t want to ruin this day, this great great day. You reach for the elevator button that illuminates with the slightest touch, but you miss with an odd feeling of relish upon your finger. But what you lack in precision you make up for in repetitiveness and you walk through the aluminum doors that close shut, you know they’re made of steel. Again your finger slips and you press roof access but what you lack in precision you make up for in receptiveness, so you continue to press, roof access roof access, roof access. As you approach your floor, you understand you are the spotted goose in the pond of mallards, and that king Kong is just a movie, and as you walk towards the facade of the building with its everlasting brick pattern, you climb its short ledge. It is time for the beauty of life to be explored, for you are no longer bound to this office, or this time, and so you fall and your bound lasts forever. You reach for the tips of stars and the crests of smiles and you continue through a blackness so deep that eternity feels like a minute and your life is just a mere second. You snatch at the intangible thoughts and the curtain of deep soothing immortality that surrounds you and you shall be one, you shall never die, you shall live on past the inhabitants of time and space and once they have surceased you shall continue on. For it is such a great time to be alive, and all of time it is great to be alive. So you fall and the concrete is no longer there to catch you, and all that is known is now poetry that flows in and out through your ever existing conscious. Until beauty was peace and peace became nothing at all.