Baron Mynd

Lars · 03-12-2013, 12:20 PM

"Fuck a 9 to 5, I'd sooner bust a rhyme online!"

Black shirt, white tie. Passwords. Five tries. At work, time flies. Energy drinks are the remedy. Stimulating my memory. Thinking. Wake up and then I sleep. No rest for the wicked. Code red. This is business. Notes left on the fridges doors. I won't stress. I'll just give a call back and explain in jargon as plain as Martian. Paper. Sharpeners. A hole-punch. I've paid for garbage the whole month. "You're late,". Regardless, I've shown up. I want a bigger office space to sit in while I'm off my face. Hidden. Boxed in. Lost for days. No realistic options. Coffee tastes like Styrofoam. Dock my pay. It's time to go. Silent. Moping. Driving home with a scowl to greet the missus instead of showering her with kisses. The hours deplete in minutes. I’m out of my league. I fidget with the pen and pad left in hand while drawing an incessant blank. This never happens. Writers block. I’m getting cramp while rifling off these letters and I’d like to stop. My head is banging. I’m tired of signing forms, typed reports and supplying calls to faceless suits. They’re dinosaurs who’ve paid their dues to climb the corporate déjà vu.

03-12-2013, 12:20 PM	#8
Lars PROVEN BITER Join Date: Feb 2013 Location: Wolverhampton Posts: 1,588 Battle Record: 5-0 Champed - The Winter Topical Rep Power: 1809298	"Fuck a 9 to 5, I'd sooner bust a rhyme online!" Black shirt, white tie. Passwords. Five tries. At work, time flies. Energy drinks are the remedy. Stimulating my memory. Thinking. Wake up and then I sleep. No rest for the wicked. Code red. This is business. Notes left on the fridges doors. I won't stress. I'll just give a call back and explain in jargon as plain as Martian. Paper. Sharpeners. A hole-punch. I've paid for garbage the whole month. "You're late,". Regardless, I've shown up. I want a bigger office space to sit in while I'm off my face. Hidden. Boxed in. Lost for days. No realistic options. Coffee tastes like Styrofoam. Dock my pay. It's time to go. Silent. Moping. Driving home with a scowl to greet the missus instead of showering her with kisses. The hours deplete in minutes. I’m out of my league. I fidget with the pen and pad left in hand while drawing an incessant blank. This never happens. Writers block. I’m getting cramp while rifling off these letters and I’d like to stop. My head is banging. I’m tired of signing forms, typed reports and supplying calls to faceless suits. They’re dinosaurs who’ve paid their dues to climb the corporate déjà vu. __________________ PROVEN BITER