Step. Step. Step in line. I am filling out forms, typing numbers, not asking questions. I am falling in line. Where is the circle, where is the life of chaos and spontaneity? It is here and just in my grasp, but I feel the soft comfort of fat building around my waist holding me in. So I step in line and buy buy buy a bigger size. The age of aging is upon me and I am bitter and do not want to stoop and become brittle and talk with the scorched voice of a bar hag. But, I step in line and buy my smokes, because I smoke. My habits increase without love they were fun, they felt good. They feel good sometimes still. But, I can not be still without the little habits that are making me old. I become distracted and irritable. Half awake, unaware, the sparkle in my eyes - where is it? Beers and more beers. They are starting to taste like soap, bubbles but no bread. Until I increase their numbers, each new day 1 more is what will make me zippy and funny and the spark in my eyes will be there when you light my cigarette. Now, I am all too bored with this. I will not lay down and die. I am turning around in a whirlwind, screaming like a banshee, clawing and kicking out to any offer of the mind numbing shit that I continue to consume. Get off of me habits, I am going to rise - pure, shiny, clear and vibrant.