Thursday, January 1, 2009

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.

No comments:

Post a Comment