7:36 P.M.

Diagonally across my office building sits the United States Federal court. Ironically we budget the debt they dismiss, frankly wasteful if you ask me. Certainly all of you are tired from your punched dailies, will resist by not boring you to bankruptcy.

On full moon days a textual message is sent to my mobile device ‘parked on level 4, drink water, pay electric bill, call Dad, etc blah blah’

Today a message was not received lined confusion with similarity had swallowed my vehicle. Crying is a ritual at this age that finds me, eyelids love deciphering progesterone levels. After working past my salary requirement I was determined composure in stilettos holding my outdated Dell Inspiron sloth, with nothings standing between me and identity. Please disregard my partial feminist scramble allow me to explain how it felt to be lost in the obsolete tantamount.

We look for shortcuts
Pinching the flame
Modernizing the stamp collector
Allowing lymph nodes to babel
For them there is no arching menace
No skin gun abuse
Their hearts ride empty
Oil famished headlines
Is their war
Their silence is generous
Now if we would just stand in the hive
Flattening our plum-lipped greed
Their need would tender resolved
Centuries haven proven us as the PULP without us there would be no reason for glue