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Wide Awake

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Wide Awake

I lay here, awake, listening to the soft splashes of the rain, falling outside my window, hitting the rooftops and slipping down the gutter to the silent street below. It’s beautiful… That is, of course, until the modern, first world, white, male cog in the complicated machine of my brain begins to revolve, and join the rest of the orchestra of working gears. The pistons are well oiled, and will work overtime to allow for the gear to remain motionless, for an awful lot longer than the vast majority of my co-inhabitants on this island, but every now and again, as it must, it clicks into gear and joins the rest of the engine.
00:10. My alarm is set for three hours from now, where I must get up, before the sun, and make my way to work by bicycle, and surely I will get a soaking if this fucking rain continues. Oh what a trained chimp of a fool I feel, that these awfully deep-seeded learned ways still flash in my psyche, even in acknowledgement and defence of them.
The third world man of my age, holds a rusty bucket in grimy, orange water which will not possibly, but definitely murder him or his brothers, sisters or children at some point, as we push up our umbrellas, build our shelters and chastise the necessary life force that falls from the sky for us in abundance, as if by magic.


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