The faded clock mocks me with it's perpetual spinning hands.
Not much time left for me here.
Not much of anything anymore.
Happiness eludes me as I listen to the same heavy, insidious songs.
It's not you, it's me.
No wait it is you!
Alcohol and Motrin sustains me.
I am totally emersed in the rat race.
The client conveys instructions in Chinese and awaits my response in Greek; all in a delayed, electronic forum of nonsense, or Zoom meetings. We wear masks and gloves and speak of the killer virus that I have not yet seen first hand. I think I want to go on a vacation but not really. I think I'll sit this chapter out. Think I'll reminisce of those days of happiness which seem so so far away...
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