2009 [January 1st | 2/365]

I want whatever company whose fault it is to own up,
this constant need to self-market,
why the people we were born recognizing are never nearly enough.

I want the sport jackets to come off and the sport fucking to stop.
I want the webvertisements to die.

I want to know the bosses of me.
I want to know my food.

I want my clothes to have stories.
I want her smell on my scarf to come back from the street-smoke.

I want the cities to be strange again
and the stupid children sitting in rows all along the highway
to stop raising their hands when they don't know the answer.