the feeling is mutual

The day began with a spasm as i awoke to the sight of a perfectly still and quiet digital clock on the table staring back at me with the look of a neglected child;
i had overslept.
One chill of a shower.
One swig of a diet coke to get the pills down,
and a one car race to the place i chain myself to for money, (yes i pole-dance at a strip club)
i still made it there with time to spare.

retail management at christmas: could there be a better place to be?
how about...in a trance, on fire, in the town square like a rebel monk?
at least people noticed him.
but 20 years of this? and i rush to get there. i speed to get there on time!!

oh despicable job, how i loathe thee, let me count the ways:
on the first day of this christmas, my patrons gave to me, toilets over-flowing and a 3 hundred dollar grab and run.
on the second day of christmas, i fucking quit, i'm not doing this again. how can i be doing this again?
every year i plan to leave and every year i don't, my friends accuse me i'm in love with it apparently.
i could go on but you've heard it all before because i've said it all before so i'll just get the the end of my day when i just couldn't take any more whining and bitching and yelling and fighting. my mind ached with desperation to find the cause of all this anger and pain, why can't i just quit?
as i left the store, my boss followed me outside and asked something along the lines of "are you okay? you seem annoyed."
my pace was slow but determined as i walked towards my car and i didn't even look at him when i responded. i said, "i'm going to my father's house and when i get there, kick him square in the balls for fucking my mother."

merry christmas, bitches.