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Rated: 18+ · Prose · Other · #1917065
I used to think this was my masterpiece but I'm not sure if its even good
Gazing intently upon a baby blue wall, the sound of dripping water draws my attention to a leak in my ceiling. Drip drop it goes and the off beat sound reminds me of myself. Drip drip drop drop dripdropdripdrop. Faster then slower then steady then stop..... I pick up my pen instead of the mop. The water doesn't matter and maybe neither do I but to continue dripping and dropping through life as it passes by with a mournful wail like the 10 o'clock train headed for Texas. Oh sorry dear train but Texas isn't where it's at and neither was L.A. nor Kansas City. You had a task and you failed and the shitty part is no one ever told you what was right. Or which way was right and you've gone and been left. Can't even hang your hat on the fact that you gave it your best because 9 times out of 10 you didn't. "At least you tried", they say. To hell with that I say. There's a half inch of water in a bowl on my floor and I didn't try? Sure I missed a few drops but who's keeping score? It's like 4th grade soccer and everybody gets to play. Still I sit out from the frizzle frazzle razzle dazzle security of it all. Sure I have a job but a job's just a place in time and I'm not on the lease so this place ain't mine and you're welcome to kick me out. At least I have all my fingers. Like a snake with no rattle you can't hear me coming and rightfully so because I'm not. No poisonous fangs or mighty paws...how the hell do we survive? I'd take an armadillo shell, boar tusks, and eagle eyes then be set for life. Not to mention eternity. But I don't give much thought to the after or even before because before is long gone and I'm impatient for after. I'm impatient for laughter too so I smoke marijuana, tell jokes to myself, then roll around on the floor clutching my gut. No wonder it's illegal. Nobody's that happy. Look at my mother in the office til 10 worried about bills and everything that plagues every grown woman. Every young woman for that matter and you have to love them because they keep you sane. Most times by testing your sanity but all you gotta do is pass. Pass the test, pass gas, then pass the fuck out. All in due time and make it poetic by putting it to rhyme. I hope people read this and hate it because honestly it's not a personal note. I just hope that it's something, someday, someone will quote.
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