I Am A Robot

Darkness. Mechanical chirping destroys the stagnancy of night. Or is it dawn? Honestly, it's all the same. The chirping stops as it meets its fate with the concrete wall.

Coffee. Black. Mold growing and thriving on the grounds. If only I could be capable of the same. I drink it anyway. We're all one step closer to death with the bat of each lash.

Matte powder. Baked bronzer. Steely coal pressed shadow. I'm not beautiful. My art is beautiful. Shade, blend, correct. I say hello to the mask in the mirror, both of us smiling briefly at the lie.

It's raining again. A crappy, nameless 80s song softly cracks through my crappy, nameless speakers. I need a CD. Where did I put those? I can't remember. I shift to autopilot. The trees, the same, yet different since yesterday. The pedals yearn to meet the floor mats, but I control their impulse. Red light.

Toner permeates the air, silently poisoning the lot of us. The fluorescent bulbs flicker, begging to be put to rest once and for all. Click, click, delete, delete, delete. Command "p".

I am a robot, programmed to smile and exchange pleasantries.
Yes, ma'am. 
So sorry sir, it'll be here tomorrow, promise.

The national anthem barrels through the mound of papers and ink. Shutdown. Auto-detect power save mode. Rain pounds the ground violently, my car impenetrable. Ke$ha blabbers about Jack Daniels. I'm not in the mood. Where the hell are those CDs? I'll find them...later.

Fridge bare, condiments without homes. Beer without a companion. Whatever.

Bare walls. 1000 thread count Egyptian cotton. Disconnection from the world, with the flick of a button. It's almost Saturday, right? My mind races through random trivia. A marathon of past, present, and future circumstances, eventually finding the finish...

Darkness. Mechanical chirping destroys the stagnancy of night. Or is it dawn? Honestly, it's all the same. The chirping stops as it meets its fate with the concrete wall.