taking control

sometimes the most difficult part of the day is extracting me from my room.

i open my eyes and cannot rely on my circadian rhythm nor the sun that leaks through the blinds to tell what time it is. i move my tongue in concentric circular motions, rubbing my hard palate and probing at the underlying scar tissue that was created a week before.

sometimes the most satisfying part of the day involves manipulating a necktie to perfection.

with a glance at the door, i locate in my periphery the components of today's attire. each segment suffocated in bags of plastic and neatly pressed to form the most pristine creases that run exactly parallel with my legs and perpendicular with my hips.

sometimes the most invigorating part of the day involves copious amounts of hydrogen peroxide.

then there's a ritualistic tedium of toothpaste, floss, mouthwash, facial wash and hydrogen peroxide. it leaves behind something so immaculate, so pure that my past actions are dissolved away. the real person that i am has been placed in an acid bath to reveal the robotics within.

sometimes the most erotic part of the day involves surgical precision.

i carefully slide the cocaine-white shirt between my thumb and forefinger, carefully feeling the intricate textile matrix as i fasten the buttons in the same fashion as a slowly moving elevator ascends hundreds of floors to reach the apex. a matte-black tie that is adorned with perfect mathematical-symmetry is partially hindered by a coat. i check the time and grab my suitcase that lies in the grey area and leave. for the record, the time of day is 6AM.

sometimes the most aggravating part of the day involves secrets.