We wake up to that alarming sound,
Pick up the cellphone
Scroll, Scroll, Scroll
Unread messages, missed calls
The darkness and lonesome of waking up,
Covered, Isolated,
but recharged from the constant stimulus
and daily overload of the senses.
Eyes feel weighted,
Stretching open as if rubber bands hold them shut.
The sound of TVs, Music, Cars,
Technology
Dressing well, presentation is key.
The anxiety of fulfilling plans, responding to emails, presenting your body to wherever it needs to be.
Enslaved by the concept of time,
the necessary effort to find time for you,
but the feeling of losing, and the learned mentality that tells you to be lazy is to sit.
In this quiet realm,
listening to ones own thoughts and wondering:
how many of these are a result of influence?
Where am I?
Where is me?
Everyday we wear this armor,
ready to battle,
but seeking
peace,
tranquility.
When was the last time you noticed the birds chirp?
The patterns of wind, as is winds up,
and as it winds down.
As it quiets down enough to hear a pen drop,
and then it leaves you for a moment.
The cold as it triggers goosebumps and lifts the hair on your arms.
The annoyance of grass,
irritating your bare skin as you sit on it,
but you choose tolerance.
And all of this provokes the realization,
of the constant loop you are in.
To get here you have to escape.
The expectations of each one of your roles,
Son or Daughter, Man or Woman, Friend or Foe, to choose you or someone else,
Human.
The appoinments of life,
the need to insistingly value your time,
the sin of escaping your daily routine.
Days like these
A machine constantly in motion
To be the free bird that fights for survival,
where a meal is never guaranteed.
Or to be caged,
and fed by the social constructs,
and partake of what is given to you.
Either way,
A loop is a loop.
British Literacy Analysis - William Blake Inspiration : Woodsworth, Letters of the early spring
