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