Moving through the city’s seas of flowing bodies rushing frantically through the streets
Into traffic dodging oncoming cars,
Unable to wait and nothing to look forward to…
Compacted sidewalks create waves of what seems to be fluidness, until the mistake is made of drawing your analytics closer
Causing the formulations of realizations that this fluid wave is seemingly just a rat race with people who are
Unable to wait and have nothing to look forward to,
Going separate directions, separate speeds, with separate dreams, and separate needs.
Chatter, horns and tires on pavement permeate into the air intermixing with the street bands and the saxophones creating a frantic medley that is seemingly genius for the crowd of comers and goers with no true understanding of purpose,
Because the material world of metropolis ate it away.
A narration of sorts with no direction of where life is going
Because there is no time to make sense of it,
But we like to think that we have some sense of control.
Hopeful upon beginning and withdrawn once we are in it,
The concrete jungle is too fast to not become jaded from too much stimulation and too little thought outside of the bounds of constantly moving around…
Despite all of the color….The. Air. Tastes. Stale…
Through the cocktails, smiles, suits, heels and cat calls there is a paradigm uneasy to break, but reduces us to those who are:
Unable to wait but truly have nothing to look forward to.
by J. Williams
Sugary Sweet Ennui 