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11 by 24

Eleven by Twenty-Four

All I can see is the bright screen ahead of me,

My eyes are burning,

My throats dry,

And I long for the taste of a fizzy lemon drink,

Perhaps coconut,

It's 2 in the afternoon and as I fumble around an empty space,

Littered with sound waves which resonate on these dirty white walls,

I can hear the sound of my neighbors Yorkies yapping yet no answer to the sound of their confused and utterly annoying calls,

And I am here...a paper bag of anxiety, containing a broken lighter and an empty carton of cigarettes,

I could probably dub myself lucky,

I can no longer fathom the reality of sitting in an uncomfortable chair,

Inside a fluorescent-lit office,

Breathing in cold, smelly air,

Waiting anxiously until the 30th to get paid a poor wage to spend on menial objects just to waddle around aimlessly until I find myself knocking on the door of "I'M BROKE!",

It's a vicious cycle of which I've eaten, slept, and bathed for three years,

The sole reason as to why I've hated my life,

So now I'm here,



Excited for what the future may present,

And anxious for what it may decide to take,

Either way,

I'll have something to type about,

Inside my eleven by twenty-four.

© 2019 Aiden Green

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