Tuesday, October 23, 2007

dead duck dot com

3 am in the morning, I look down at my useless wings. They flap with little enthusiasm nowadays. It's the same routine. drink. eat. crap. pee. I long to fly towards the moonlight, it taunts me as I shift around this cubicle. This cold life meaningless. I miss my flock.

I remember flying towards that endless horizon, so far high you can see the earth's orange curve as the sun lightly creeped on it's edges. Now this hollow existence within this paper prison. Life sure has a way of turning around. But tonight, as the masters sleeps, i will try to climb out of my situation.

as I was halfway past the point i felt my wings slipped and I heard the sound of a branch breaking and God turning out the lights.

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