indiete

Remember when your name sounded different? Going home, a little bent out of shape Face pressed against the glass of the vehicle speeding me back towards obscurity I had an idea and almost laughing at the thought putting all notion of its superficiality aside I smiled At tired explanations At long distance commiserations At my many flaws At nothing really ever working out, and the feeling it never would. I smiled. At the blank faced shop assistant At the cosmetically concerned, At the programmed consumers At the silent orchestrations, of smirking calculators smugly plotting our doom. I smiled. I smiled at the know-it-al