A child’s subtle hint to a mother in symbolism of “cheers” in the collision of spoken word and silent plastic. And the solitude in one’s voice who cannot speak but is heard only by his reflection in the mirror and the scream in his eyes. The sound of his voice is the anger we hear through adolescent rage as our youth becomes stronger and stares out into the open world.
The man hides behind the hollow glow of his laptop and the five dollar coffee that he lazily sips down and mourns the time he lost on the drive over. Too many lights. Too many faces. Too little time. He wonders where his family is, and where they were all those days he went away. All of the memories he’ll try to recapture on the small screen of the bedroom television as he slips a kiss on her sleeping cheek and slips under the covers- far too late for anyone to notice his return, and he’ll rise too early for anyone to remember his warmth
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(oh yeah, rackin' up another tally...)
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The man hides behind the hollow glow of his laptop and the five dollar coffee that he lazily sips down and mourns the time he lost on the drive over. Too many lights. Too many faces. Too little time. He wonders where his family is, and where they were all those days he went away. All of the memories he’ll try to recapture on the small screen of the bedroom television as he slips a kiss on her sleeping cheek and slips under the covers- far too late for anyone to notice his return, and he’ll rise too early for anyone to remember his warmth
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