Seven in the a.m. Linn Park at sunrise. Department of revenue at sunset. God is watching. The judges stay behind closed metal detectors. Who is the culprit? Goddamn local politicians. Who is the mayor? Who is the commissioner? Who are the voters? I am? Holy shit, I am!
Guarded hallways for cerebral motion.
Killing is mental with guards. If the guards are checking, who is guarding? God? Are You there?.... if so, please take my aching feet and place them in a cloud. Shins need milk but decided to go without. Seven hours. I get to wait to wait in line.
Ropes hung rail. Sixflags has dangled envy in front of Birmingham yet again. What happened to Visionland? What happened to the courthouses? Lines are too long once hope escapes. Not enough "how much longer" signs. From this point: 3 hours. From this point: a little over... 3 hours. From this point: almost there. From this point: 3 hours.
Deliberate and fat. Gossiping ghouls. I hate their chairs. Their attitude smells of curry and elitism. Nepotism can't save you. Only a minimum wage job. How are cellphones out for window view? Weren't you the one complaining about lack of focus.
“The most successful politician is he who says what the people are thinking most often in the loudest voice.”