Up and up and up

I come home.
Open the post box and hope there will be a letter that I really need to get. All I get is taxes.
Go up and up and up.
Nothing.
Up and up and up.

Still nothing.
White walls and brown balconies.
I feel that the world has to disappear and reappear again. Then everybody would be either dead or happy.

Anyway.
Every word we say is empty. Every heart is cold. Every mind is blank. Every river streams down to nowhere.
I still try to go up and up and up.
Nothing happens.

Mascara gets ruined. Eyes get red and tired. Chocolate boxes go to the grey bin which is supposed to be the recycling bin for papers.
Everything gets recycled and recycled, new things come out and tend to be ecologically friendly, give me a break!
So we go up and up and up.
Still nothing but taxes to pay.

By Alabama Otis