Except inside my clock

I have grown tired of people telling me that I have changed.

I have long outgrown a static model of myself.

I am a process, but there’s still so much satisfaction in their eyes

when they get to say that.

Them – people who never get tired of measuring and weighing you.

You – growing so fast that their houses become so small

your arms and legs coming out the windows,

just like Alice’s.

Today I hate and loathe and spit and my revolt is malign.

I hate the dogs that won’t stop barking.

I hate the people who can’t even let you get off a bus without giving you a push.

I hate the slow lady at the cash register of the neighborhood’s shop.

I hate the loud surly filthy people who shop there.

I hate the crowded streets and the pale lights.

I hate the cold and my hands having to reach deep in my pockets for warmth.

I hate the silence in my head and having to reach deep in my mind for wisdom.

….
I  hate people who don’t respect my endeavours.
I hate all the hypocrits and procrastinators out there
mostly because I often find myself being one.

Listen to Regina Spektor and eat mushroom soup : http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=M4hzaL2C86A

Photography by Doru Moraru