there's a haze in the morning, sweeping down the freeway, blurry lights and epidrome. not many but the rugged few can deal with these early morning starts, the sun sluggish to rise, the last star burns bright. i weave in and out finding space to save time. the radio blurts out useless information and i can't get the satisfaction of speed.
with my drive through coffee i flash past the sleepy seaside village in it's hidden cove, quirky population still snoozing in their zombie sleep dreaming about cotton wool clouds and soft suburban landings. i drive past the big rock as the burst of light hits my rear screen, photons smash into texture, that blood red dawn is hot on my heels, chasing me down the sexy curve of the no speed zone, where only the brave dare to break all laws of man, i face the future.
technique takes me across the lanes in an elegant tangent i turn off the freeway and cruise to my destination.
i stick in some music for the last leg, some thing dark and funky slips out the speakers like a snake slithering. i want to smoke my emergency spliff but i have to stay un-stoned all day, file my reports, attend my meetings and do my work. i sit outside and focus my breathing, lots to do, lots to accomplish, focus focus focus hocus pocus focus focus. 
the world seeps in, my voodoo can't stop it, defences slip as it permeates my protection, i'm part of the world now, it's eating me alive. 
i play the game, the citizens play, some are in far to deep , they are asleep but others, a certain few are wide awake. we know the truth of it all. don't need no magick glasses to know they live. they live in abstract structures, cities and streets, buildings that  suck life with anti energetic lighting and strange food made from plastics. everything is a shade of shut down, bad television and news bombards recreational time, sports is the opium for the masses, facebook sucks their souls dry, like a fake satanic demon. 
the march of the man, from sleep to death is just slow death without art or a creative act. this is what i believe. slow death is the life we settle for, compromised. 
souled out.