A happy meal

I'm too dull to burn out. Low watt light bulbs. It's laziness is all, coupled with late nights attempting to string together coherent sentences, and trying to make sense out of uncertainty. Long hours in fast food restaurants with my best friend as we draw our lives on napkins, flow charts, stick figures, step ladders-- an island isolation. Let's not live in a box if we can help it.

I hate loitering but I'm afraid I have nowhere to go. She smacks sense into me, tells me what I don't want to hear, but packs it into a little bitter pill.

Open. Drink. Swallow. Is it over yet?