Fucked off

I'm burnt out, knackered, shattered, fucked, down to my last ounce of energy. Like I've just swam the English channel whilst wearing a gorilla suit, pulling a rubber dinghy full of illegal immigrants to the new promised land. Like I've been treading water for 2 days, with little hope waiting for the inevitable.

I either sink to the bottom taking 2 minutes whilst my life drifts by my sad, tired, bagged, sagging eyes. Or I crawl up the beach onto the plastic strewn, shit smelling, jam ragged, used condom covered infested sand, right into my next bum fucked day.

I'm either treading water getting by, or slowly sinking and crawling along the bottom struggling to get out.

You get the idea.

I no longer want to be staring at a computer screen for 10 hours a day. I want to be staring at a rack of tits in a tight bikini top on a beach.

I no longer want to answer to anyone. Only the sun tanned, tight short wearing, long haired, blue eyed, full lipped, pert arsed, camel toed barmaid, behind the tropical beach bar, as she asks me if I want another drink.

I no longer want to be sitting on a stale office chair, with the air conditioning on full blast because of the sweaty, hot flustered, menopausal MILF trying not to be embarrassed. I want to be sitting on a beach bar stool with the hot tropical air blowing off the ocean into my face.

I no longer want to commute on the rat infested highways. Seeing the same poor bastards each day with glum faces, fingers up their nose picking and digging out their brains. Then smearing them over the windows in a state of boredom in a cry for help, whilst trying to forget their working day ahead.

Travelling death row each morning to a bum fuckery painful death. Only for the experience then to be repeated hours later on the commute home. Then again and again until you have 2 days off at weekends where all you do is think about doing it all again come Monday.

I want to travel the world, not the highways.

I no longer want to sit in an office, listening to colleagues small talk, suppliers excuses, managers bickering for career points, clients unrealistic demands, bosses instructions. I want to be sitting on that beach bar listening to conversations of people who have travelled the world and lived to tell a proper fucking story. Like punching a shark, not punching a stapler.

I'm pissed off with working long hours. Too stressed to eat, too anxious to sleep.

I'll just get another strong, black coffee mixed with Red Bull and carry on in a comatose state. Blocking out everything around me, waiting until the incurable disease that is life to consume me.

Fuck this fuckery up the shitty poop pipe.

I'm fucked off. I need to fuck off.