LOST JOHNNY

UNDERNEATH THE CITY THE ALLIGATORS SING
OF HOW THE FOOL HE CANNOT DANCE
WHEN SOMEONE CUTS THE STRINGS
CAN YOU GET THE MORPHINE?
TRY TO BE SO BREIF
LOST JOHNNYS OUT THERE LOOKING FOR RELIEF

Its been a while since I posted on here and I feel better when I write so here I am.

Listening to Motorhead whilst housesitting in the quiet suburbs of Woranora Heights. Its a serene suburb that epitomises the quiet surburban life of the Sutherland Shire. I want/need out ASAP. Id rather be wiping the grit of the city from my drooping, bloodshot eyes than wave to my neighbour as I cut my lawn.

I live not far from this area and travel to work in the Inner West. I am a wine merchant. I smile, press buttons on old computers and talk with a smile as I pump the populace full of alcohol. I charge it to the credit card and hope they enjoy their purchase. They think they are getting a real bargain. I worry about my weekly statistics. My calls-to-sales ratio. My conversion rate. My cases per hour. My average revenue per hour. I think of how I can improve these things to unlock an "over-achievers" model and achieve higher comission rates. I feel like a cog in a system I hate. I want to break down in such a way that the machine collapses around me.

Fuck the free world.