something from wickedocity

Five oclock and bumper to bumper fumes billow horns bellow.
A pool of silence in the cacophony of rush hour traffic, alone in my car.

Alone is like being a river - it just goes on never ending,
slowly eroding the need for "the one",
desire sinking quietly into the riverbed to lay fallow and mostly unnoticed.

The longer it lasts, the easier it becomes not to make an effort to change it.
No one to answer to, no one to disappoint, self contained, self-alienated, cloistered.

Watching the thunderstorms of other's lives makes me tired sometimes.