The Man

This need within our culture to have this corporate world surround us. We are forever caught by “the man”. He walks around on high rise platforms suspended above the elevations of most human heads touting a very large club. A club, that is littered with spikes of the economy and the nails of coffins. I am tired of the man. He has paid me handsomely and forever burned the cardinal knowledge into my brain. I have no more use for him.

So in the depths of this gray day, I am buried with the anxiety of wanting. Wanting what, I do not know, but there is a desire to transform. A transformation that will shift the world around me into something that I am proud to be part of.

Rewind to the days of my dreadlocks, my frequent bouts with LSD and the ever present racing of thoughts. Has my mind become so comfortable that I cannot handle the race track of thoughts. Lap after lap they spin the wheels.

What do I want? Where do I want my life to lend itself? Can it be there to simply exist in a state of flux? I wish I could jump into another line of life and smile at this current aspect of life.

Red velvet table clothes adorn the eateries. The pixie hair cut is so casual and cute, framing the face the saddened face. She smiles bashfully with a look down and a look up. Always makes the heart race.