Someone get me out of here. Please help me to get out of here. I don't want to be here. My senses are shutting down slowly. My brain is in a state of panic. My body is slothful.
There is a yellow table in front of me and I am surrounded by chattering idiots. The computer screen is a special vortex that makes me feel like I am falling forever.
My colleagues hate and laugh all day long. I sit down and shove biscuits and coffee and tea and sandwiches into my face and mouth. I spill coffee all over my groin every day.
My keyboard is a moulding pit of flaked skin and grimy dirt paste. I wish that I was outside in the rain or in a sacred forest surrounded by elms.
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5 comments:
pizza dinner. and pancakes.
My collegues keep saying, 'so, what are your plans for Chrimble this year?'
I am going to start making things up.
I'm going to kill all my family using a turkey and a sprig of holley.
I'm going to survive on a coctail of gin and oranges.
I am going to work through christmas. I'm going to sleep in a dark corner of the prison.
i want to kill at least one of my work mates. everytime he laughs I stab the back of my hand with a pencil so i can stop hearing him.
I murder all my colleagues on a daily basis. Brutally. On bad days, they get murdered both before and after lunch.
oh my god. i came back to read if any more comments came in and here he goes laughing again.
and me without my pencil.
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