And How Was Your Day?

I awaken to the sound of bulldozers out side my window.
Where have all the crickets gone?
I shower in the acid rain that I helped create then dress in my clothes made by an immigrant in a sweatshop.
I grind my gourmet coffee beans picked by infant hands, purculate, then down the sweet output.
I walk downstairs to my ozone depleator and drive over the graves of every man, woman, and child who came before me.
Past the homeless...
past the beaten...
past the tortured...
past the cold...
past the hungry...
I venture downtown.
I pull into the concrete corral and step out onto my great-great grandfathers tomb.
I walk quietly and willingly into the irredescence.
The greeter at the door offers me a buggy.
I walk through the crowd to the dope aisle and grab a bottle of emotional balance form the shelf.
I thenhead over to get a box of LIFE to eat for breakfast...
what do you know?
It's new and improved.
I'm then herded into line.
The man in front of me counts out change to pay for the latest wonder drug;
a pill to make him want his wife again.
When it's my turn,
I hand the casheir my life's blood and she counts back my change.
I walk out the door past the man paid to thank me for shopping at Walmart Supercenter.
The natural light hurts my eyes.
I hop into my car and plow down the street past Schwels where they are having their first ever Titanic sale.
Maybe that's what they called it when the families of the deceased sold the victims belongings.
I return to my controlled environment,
eat my cereal,
vomit,
and watch the tube for a few hours.
I laugh at the trailer trash on Jerry Springer as they cuss in front of their children and throw things.
It's my favorite show.
Time for the female porn on NBC,
Days of our Lives.
After waiting to see who fucked who today,
I go to get some lunch.
I wait in the drive-thru of the single mother who barely makes enough money to feed her children,
then head back home to enjoy my flame-broiled flesh.
I drive past the local slaughter house and wonder who is screaming inside.
By the time I get home,
my burger is cold.
I stick it in the microwave, watch the carousel rotate, and increase my chances of cancer.
Ding!
It's ready.
I gobble down the bacteria and relieve myself shortly thereafter.
I wash my hands in anti-bacterial soap so that I can promote virus growth.
I lay on my couch and soon fall under the spell of the television.
What time is it?
Oh shit, I'm late.
I rush to get ready.
I cover my face in horse and aborted baby fetus to make myself look beautiful.
I have to make sure that my date will try to get into my pants.
I slip into my short, black dress...
the anorexic look is in this year.
I answer the door on the third knock so that I don't seem too eager.
He tells me how beautiful I look and hands me a bouquet of roses that will last longer than our relationship.
He politely escorts me to his car and we drive for a while.
Silence.
We watch obscene images flash across the screen for a few hours then head to dinner.
We order.
Wine first,
then the entree.
I pick at it like a bird,
excuse myself,
then rid my body of what I did eat.
Now for dessert...
we shortchange the college boy with bad acne and head back to my place.
We barely speak before I put my faith into a thin piece of rubber.
He cums.
He goes.
He promises to call.
I drift into sleep and dream that I am eating ripe, juicy peaches.
I awaken to the sound of bulldozers outside my window.
Where have all the crickets gone?
I awaken to the sound of bulldozers out side my window.
Where have all the crickets gone?
I shower in the acid rain that I helped create then dress in my clothes made by an immigrant in a sweatshop.
I grind my gourmet coffee beans picked by infant hands, purculate, then down the sweet output.
I walk downstairs to my ozone depleator and drive over the graves of every man, woman, and child who came before me.
Past the homeless...
past the beaten...
past the tortured...
past the cold...
past the hungry...
I venture downtown.
I pull into the concrete corral and step out onto my great-great grandfathers tomb.
I walk quietly and willingly into the irredescence.
The greeter at the door offers me a buggy.
I walk through the crowd to the dope aisle and grab a bottle of emotional balance form the shelf.
I thenhead over to get a box of LIFE to eat for breakfast...
what do you know?
It's new and improved.
I'm then herded into line.
The man in front of me counts out change to pay for the latest wonder drug;
a pill to make him want his wife again.
When it's my turn,
I hand the casheir my life's blood and she counts back my change.
I walk out the door past the man paid to thank me for shopping at Walmart Supercenter.
The natural light hurts my eyes.
I hop into my car and plow down the street past Schwels where they are having their first ever Titanic sale.
Maybe that's what they called it when the families of the deceased sold the victims belongings.
I return to my controlled environment,
eat my cereal,
vomit,
and watch the tube for a few hours.
I laugh at the trailer trash on Jerry Springer as they cuss in front of their children and throw things.
It's my favorite show.
Time for the female porn on NBC,
Days of our Lives.
After waiting to see who fucked who today,
I go to get some lunch.
I wait in the drive-thru of the single mother who barely makes enough money to feed her children,
then head back home to enjoy my flame-broiled flesh.
I drive past the local slaughter house and wonder who is screaming inside.
By the time I get home,
my burger is cold.
I stick it in the microwave, watch the carousel rotate, and increase my chances of cancer.
Ding!
It's ready.
I gobble down the bacteria and relieve myself shortly thereafter.
I wash my hands in anti-bacterial soap so that I can promote virus growth.
I lay on my couch and soon fall under the spell of the television.
What time is it?
Oh shit, I'm late.
I rush to get ready.
I cover my face in horse and aborted baby fetus to make myself look beautiful.
I have to make sure that my date will try to get into my pants.
I slip into my short, black dress...
the anorexic look is in this year.
I answer the door on the third knock so that I don't seem too eager.
He tells me how beautiful I look and hands me a bouquet of roses that will last longer than our relationship.
He politely escorts me to his car and we drive for a while.
Silence.
We watch obscene images flash across the screen for a few hours then head to dinner.
We order.
Wine first,
then the entree.
I pick at it like a bird,
excuse myself,
then rid my body of what I did eat.
Now for dessert...
we shortchange the college boy with bad acne and head back to my place.
We barely speak before I put my faith into a thin piece of rubber.
He cums.
He goes.
He promises to call.
I drift into sleep and dream that I am eating ripe, juicy peaches.
I awaken to the sound of bulldozers outside my window.
Where have all the crickets gone?