stamp and sell

everyone is tired. there is too much to do in not enough time. the tasks are tedious. they surface in a constant flow as though they grow on trees. I spend weeks plugging facts and figures in documents they’ll stamp and sell with someone else’s name. by time the day is over the tank is empty and there’s no more energy for doing more than thinking of what I’m not and what I lack. I close the screen and wash my face and wish I spent more time in the sun.

I worry about people I love and wish I’d done more to keep them from worrying about me. they want me to do and be well. in the fridge there is something for dinner. at the table I watch footage on my phone of a single missile passing through a town. buildings older than the gospels explode into a cloud. I wonder if the bomb was one I paid for from the comfort of my spreadsheet.

there are stories I want to tell and people I want to hold. at the end of the day I never do either. everyone is tired. the energy is gone. all that’s left is space to think. I miss and wish until I dream again.