At the end of this road it’s not to pretty.

Rather long day. Rather long day indeed.

Sitting in an office on a Sunday evening with not a drop of work to do. Dragging on for hours, eight to be exact.

You drifted across my mind today my little black bird. You were strumming a guitar and you had a halo perched above your head. It was a magnificent sight to see. You are turning out to be quite the fill in muse if I must say. The daydream was the perfect office distraction to keep my mind off the boredom of silence.

There is drama in silence if you really stop to listen. Your mind cranks on. You close your eyes and giant poppy field explode in your head. But only if you do drugs. Or often see things that aren’t there.

I don’t like when summer bugs try to land on my monitor. There are holes in the window screen that I have not had the true time to fix. I need a stepladder.

I’m exhausted and it’s only the beginning of the week. Four more days of stiff nine-to-five smiles only to be followed up by loose casual atmosphere filled with account holders and what I hope to be a healthy dose of sarcastic humor. Only time will tell.

I have hopes for the future. Many in fact. I’d be surprised if any of my wishes and hopes come true. There is a demon in my bed that may try to hold me back. If he does, I’ll swat him with a soiled newspaper in the hopes of spoiling his worries. It almost works every time.