my crusty eyes erupt. my fuzzy body is entombed in dust. dandruff populates my pillow. i smile big. today will be like the other days. i peel each day like a banana. i lift weights in my bedroom until i sweat. i drink water, tea, coffee, & liquor from a tiny glass. much the same, i whisper, halitosis loitering in my teeth. however, today will differ from the other days. i’ll get ready in 10 minutes. i’ll go to the bus stop for work. i’ll listen to all the conversations around me. people from all over the neighborhood who i’ve never met. i’ll hear details that i wasn’t meant to hear, but that’s ok. i won’t tell a soul. i won’t have breakfast. i’ll spend 20 dollars for lunch from a venezuelan restaurant. i’ll sit alone in the conference room so i’m away from my computer while i nourish myself. my dad will text me but i won’t have time to answer. there’s too much to do. i’ll do some emails then i’ll go online shopping. what a nice set of hats! i’ll buy them for all my friends. that’s 180 dollars for hats. the sun will bless me through the window. i’ll want to take a walk but i will not have finished my excel spreadsheets. there will be more cells to fill, 1000s upon 1000s. i’ll get an earache. work will be done at 3:45. i’ll leave 4:30, say goodbye to Marie, exit through the front door, get on the bus, and watch the lights slide past. the slow traffic will make me impatient. i’ll eat sardines and bread because i will have not gone grocery shopping. there will be many a road to go down, many a sidestreet. i might pray if i can remember. the light will leave faster than usual and the dark will be plumper. the ufos will flit over the lake and the moon will cast its light in a giant wavering circle. that night air will give me a chill and i’ll go back inside for 7 chocolate chip cookies and 2 hours on the internet, opening tabs and closing tabs. i won’t call my mom, my sister, or my friend saide. i might pray if i can remember. my neck will crunch, my posture will weaken me, i’ll have some time for anything. then at 12:30am, i’ll feel the sigh of my weary head and go to bed without having brushed my teeth or taken off any clothes. then dreams will play like words in the wrong contexts like reminders coming late like my noggin like a salad. but mostly, i’ll be a rock or a clicker with no batteries, lying like a great big dead piano, only the sound of breathing making anyone think i’m a human being worth my weight in salt. i might pray if i can remember. then nothing, void, the day will die a happy death. but that’s then. this is now. my stomach is an ocean in a plastic bag. split ends tip their morning caps at each other. boogers yawn in the dawn. sleep creeps on my eyelids. time is subtracting today but that’s ok. i smile big. today will be unlike any other day.
dizzzy turek writes in chicago but is originally from ohio. find writing on substack and on twitter @dddddizzzzyzzz
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