when the sunlight disappears at dusk

Sunday night...again. Though I do really enjoy my job I dread sunday nights. The end of the weekend. Lost is the ability to sleep in. Found is the hot and heavy pace of a work week in America.

And for what? A new car? A new suit? A new toy? I don't know how our society became this fucking race of keeping up with the Jones', but I am sick of it. And tomorrow I will get up, and start the work week I so dread.

If only people could make this world make sense to me....but then it would be a boring, worthless existence.



As if that's really any different at all than what we have now?

Ej wasson