its that time of year again
this time there's someone standing behind me
the garage door echoes a little more than usual
the direction of the pigs unbeknownst to me,
i find myself wishing the worst for everyone involved
mixed morals are really proving to be as troublesome as i'd expected.
the road much fork eventually or neither destination will be reached.
sometimes the veins in my wrists itch
as if they're trying to jump out of me.
everything is audible.
the clang of cans into a cart
metal on metal.
the banter of two women in the next aisle.
proof that i'm not the only one here.
i'm targeting them with my eyes.
i've started doing this unconsciously.
i notice it now. i dont know if i mind.
CLANG! another can.
snapped out again.
on day i won't let myself be distracted.