Playing With Staples

When the world plays in slow motion I’m there. When there is everything to worry about, but I’d rather sit and stare I’ve made it. I just close my eyes for a minute and slowly exhale. In reality I’m sitting at the same desk I’ve written at for the past seven nights. I continue to tighten and release my grasp on the same stapler that calms me every night. But tonight reality does not own my thoughts. I couldn’t catch up to my stream of conscious even if I wanted to. Tonight, I pause for only a second to take a deep breath before I billow through the doors as Life in the Fast Lane shakes the earth under me for miles. My feet feel lighter than the fresh air that surrounds me, but my pace does more than justice to the musical stylings that pulse through every square inch of my body.  The music fades, but the pounding increases. Every step I take is a step closer to no where in particular. Here I don’t need to give a reason, an answer, a yes or a no. I think and I talk, but there is really no need to differentiate between the two. There is no response given, but rather a continuation. Everything simply clicks. And when everything has fallen into place, I cup my right hand and brush the staples off the desk where reality takes hold again.