Second Gear's Acting Up A Bit
Originally Uploaded here by Water Bowl
The gears of work and routine wear on me, like a misaligned machine. The clunk, chick chick, clunkclunk of a whirring belt-driven gear system plays in my head like the noise of a poorly tuned radio. I feel worn-down, stressed out, and unfulfilled. The house is a mess, the dripdrip dripitty of my sink perenially has returned like some awful ugly chrome waste flower, and I find myself wishing for the simplicity of work instead of being away worrying about it. I crave maintenance and well-use, the purring of industry playing in my head as I slip off to sleep.
I crave, I want, I need... to be near to you, to hear you smile and shift about, to draw in your words like air. Ever the poker player, I keep my cards close and my face cool, not even sure if I am bluffing, and I return to the table every week. You loosened last time, and stayed later, and it was me that slid off into the night prematurely, not waiting for the ritual of exit and accompaniment. Not now though, lovely, not now. My plate is full to spilling and, no matter how much I might hunger, I'm also full. Perhaps, too much so, even.
I'm not really sure what I want right now. Some stability, perhaps? I'm not sure.
Written On: Home Computer