I’m off to work

25 minutes later

I’m on my desk.

It’s empty.

The day passes by

so smoothly

Nothing to stir the heart

I’m in my car

it drives so well

Nothing to make it stop

I’m back home

dinner at 7 pm.

Nothing exciting to tell

It was a good day.

A fab year

and a decade passes like that.

There’s strange odour

emanating from the ether

I look at my hands and feet

now covered in brown-orangey rust

I’ve turned into oxide.


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