Three quarters full or one quarter empty, difference none and metaphor complete. Wistfully wavering against abashed consequences, I wait patiently harboring selfish pain; discourse nominal, society ignored. Be it two cents or three your opinion is important to only one able body, your own. Why live at all? To commemorate a misdeed of ancestry? To mistrust evolutionary purpose of emotional gains? To conquer lands, groups, and woman? Material, mental, immaterial: none of which meet my particular fancy.
Tic, darkness shrouds an oceanic room beaten by waves, gilded by influence. Materials scour the area laced to and from one wall another. Alone along a rectangle embedded with phi and clothing fit to survive an iced breeze. An empty canvas against the persona who takes residence here, brown haired, concaved flesh against the skull with the usual accompaniment, together length by length down a shaft no equal ratio to face; plateau and mountain symmetrically—or not—two holsters for two ligaments. Flesh and bone from complexity forms longitude with curvature present, down to joint, scrawny at best, to further complexity, five smaller mirrored ligaments, scrawny at best. Between two holsters is one shape, concaved and complex like the face but realize the obliqueness and shapeliness of evolutionary desire, and notice the falsity in comparison. Continue to a protective fleshy heap and a minimal reproductive extremity, further another pair of ligaments, scrawny at best.
Toc, an unfortunate gratitude for existence keeps me here as the moments pace and time scowls at my dislike for it. Words turn to unloving sounds, beating furiously in vibration against my head. Unannounced and intrusive it pulsates and beckons me. Futility of routine is a bastardized fortune of living things. Eat, reproduce, sleep—Eat, reproduce, sleep—Eat, reproduce—
“Wake up.”
My phone vibrated furiously on my night stand as my mother left the side of my bed to go downstairs. Apparently I had overslept and the furious and adorable efforts of my loyal electronic were not enough. Shaking violently back and forth, craving my attention. Size has a large role in the adjective cute. A giant bear, dog, cat or lion, is not cute. A cub, pup, or kitten on the other hand. I gave my cute phone what it deserved and saved its life from an untimely, yet loyal, self-destruction. Waves of light beat me one after another until I agreed to their demands to engage in my routine. Up, forward, left, right, forward; clothed-mode. I put on a red shirt, I love blue but I had a girl claim I looked better in red, she loved red. I compromised with blue jeans, and white socks with that little rim of red stitching. That stitching can get annoying at times, like I bad glove or mitt that just doesn’t form to the skin correctly. I could fix the problem by buying a different brand of sock, but that seems needless for a simple luxury.
Adventuring to the bathroom I looked into the mirror; slight hint of a double chin, round but rather tone cheeks with small imprinted dimples, bushy eyebrows, green eyes skewed downward not straight across but slightly down, small lips largely frowning, a pimple here and there not overly excessive, above average ears both in size and capability, human. A human face, covered in hair from the scalp. I wish I could wake up to something other than this human face, something alien, not even alien, a dog, cat, bear, shark… Just something not human, I contemplated brushing my teeth, today was no.
“Brush your teeth.”
My mom walked past getting laundry out of her hamper and then walking down the stairs. My frown became more profound. I complied, small circles from left to right in front, small circles from left to right in back, repeat on bottom. The circles quickly became repetitious back-and-forth, for the sake of speed. My teeth are the curse of a year of two of corrective mechanical and elastic application. In other words torture, regardless the end result is what they would call a smile I suppose and for that I restrain my anger.
Trotting down the stairs I arrived at a cupboard inside a kitchen, with cereal. The cereal became encased in a bowl, the bowl drowned with milk. A small society of bacteria formed on an island. Swiftly the society advanced, technology grew in a glance, and I asked the president of this new island nation, why? He responded with a cackled laugh of hysteria and was hospitalized for insanity. I thought to myself how logical the society’s response was to the man, the previous residents I talked to all published books. I left the island for last, drank all the milk before finally devouring it, I felt cruel and enjoyed it.
