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Description
You know what its like. Living in that trance that is working life. Labouring five days a week just so you can afford to have two days off. You get up every morning at 6am to find the dog has pissed on the floor in a desperate attempt for attention. You get dressed. It doesn't matter what you wear anymore, by now everyone knows what clothes you own, and when you get something new you wear it so often it becomes just as recognised as your other old clothes. You eat breakfast. Chunks of dried out wheat mixed with milk and sugar. The peak of modern society. The dishes, they can wait. Blur. The best way to describe what you see. Things aren't just happening. They're happening for a reason, why? I don't know. Why am I here? You start the car and like any other conforming citizen on this planet you drive to work with music blaring. No turning back. Sometimes you pray there's a traffic jam just so you can get that extra 5 minutes to yourself. Your life is a traffic jam. So many thoughts and ideas bound together and trapped in your head like a balloon ready to explode. But it doesn't. Haze. The blur is gone. You sit in your office like a Japanese kid being paid ten cents a day to make shoes for a multi-billion dollar company. Mindless. You continue your daily routine like a drone serving some non-existent queen bee. Trapped with the thoughts of a better life. Glare. You realise there's a sun as you proceed to eat your lunch. Did you know the inside of the sun burns at about 6000 Kelvin? You want to dive into it and become your own toasted sandwich. Every day it's the same. You sit down and cram food into your face knowing you won't get a chance to have another decent meal for hours. Time is up. Nothing has changed. It never does. You do your time like a prisoner awaiting parole. Thinking of nothing but escape. 3pm. Its like that last sip of your coffee. The bitter taste oozes through your skin in a cold sweat. You watch each second pass by. Blank. The look on your face resembles one of a rabbit just before it passes under your on-coming tyre. You don't budge. The seconds take hours. You work. Someone will credit you for your talents. Or not. 5pm. it hits you. Like a lump of rubber going through your body at a hundred miles an hour. You leap from your chair. Like a million pins pushing through your skin. You feel like screaming. But you don't. Suddenly when everything is looking up. Traffic jam. Countless numbers of mindless individuals hurling themselves across the earth trying to get in front of each other. Stop. You wait. It seems like hours in between each small movement of your wheels. Life is just a small movement. A vehicle for evolution. There's no real point in being here. You just are. Like a sheep in the herd you make you way home. Tension. You try to relax. But you can't. Hunger takes over. Craving change like a bed ridden cancer patient wanting morphine. You microwave last night's dinner and turn on the TV. Like everyone else in the world, you find it entertaining to watch someone else's fictional life. For a few hours every night you see a perfect world. You eat your salad. Tired. You can't stop. Like a machine you work on. But machines break down. 12am. If you ever fell asleep you'd have to wake up soon. 6am. You wake up and stand in dog piss.

Description
You know what its like. Living in that trance that is working life. Labouring five days a week just so you can afford to have two days off. You get up every morning at 6am to find the dog has pissed on the floor in a desperate attempt for attention. You get dressed. It doesn't matter what you wear anymore, by now everyone knows what clothes you own, and when you get something new you wear it so often it becomes just as recognised as your other old clothes. You eat breakfast. Chunks of dried out wheat mixed with milk and sugar. The peak of modern society. The dishes, they can wait. Blur. The best way to describe what you see. Things aren't just happening. They're happening for a reason, why? I don't know. Why am I here? You start the car and like any other conforming citizen on this planet you drive to work with music blaring. No turning back. Sometimes you pray there's a traffic jam just so you can get that extra 5 minutes to yourself. Your life is a traffic jam. So many thoughts and ideas bound together and trapped in your head like a balloon ready to explode. But it doesn't. Haze. The blur is gone. You sit in your office like a Japanese kid being paid ten cents a day to make shoes for a multi-billion dollar company. Mindless. You continue your daily routine like a drone serving some non-existent queen bee. Trapped with the thoughts of a better life. Glare. You realise there's a sun as you proceed to eat your lunch. Did you know the inside of the sun burns at about 6000 Kelvin? You want to dive into it and become your own toasted sandwich. Every day it's the same. You sit down and cram food into your face knowing you won't get a chance to have another decent meal for hours. Time is up. Nothing has changed. It never does. You do your time like a prisoner awaiting parole. Thinking of nothing but escape. 3pm. Its like that last sip of your coffee. The bitter taste oozes through your skin in a cold sweat. You watch each second pass by. Blank. The look on your face resembles one of a rabbit just before it passes under your on-coming tyre. You don't budge. The seconds take hours. You work. Someone will credit you for your talents. Or not. 5pm. it hits you. Like a lump of rubber going through your body at a hundred miles an hour. You leap from your chair. Like a million pins pushing through your skin. You feel like screaming. But you don't. Suddenly when everything is looking up. Traffic jam. Countless numbers of mindless individuals hurling themselves across the earth trying to get in front of each other. Stop. You wait. It seems like hours in between each small movement of your wheels. Life is just a small movement. A vehicle for evolution. There's no real point in being here. You just are. Like a sheep in the herd you make you way home. Tension. You try to relax. But you can't. Hunger takes over. Craving change like a bed ridden cancer patient wanting morphine. You microwave last night's dinner and turn on the TV. Like everyone else in the world, you find it entertaining to watch someone else's fictional life. For a few hours every night you see a perfect world. You eat your salad. Tired. You can't stop. Like a machine you work on. But machines break down. 12am. If you ever fell asleep you'd have to wake up soon. 6am. You wake up and stand in dog piss.