Boredom

I don't mind.  Not that much really.
I've been in the same spot for the last three hours.  Sitting behind this desk with nothing to do.
Nobody has approached me about it and I'm still getting paid.
Like I said, I don't really mind.
I didn't bring anything to read today.  I have no one to talk to either.  Nothing new to look at and over analyze.
I'm writing this down on some recycling paper I found.
This morning is beautiful out and I find being trapped in a cage of steel and concrete, ceilings made out of some foam, the linoleum floor ever shining.
Windows are finding their way onto my list of things to temporarily ban.  I can see the sky, the grass, and the trees all shifting to the cool breeze.  The sun turns cars into Easy Bake Oven.
So much being offered on the other side of the thick tornado proof walls.  More reason to envy the birds on this day.
I think about asking someone for a cigarette, an excuse to leave for a short while.
But, I find myself trying to put those long mind altering nights where one cigarette ends and seemingly two more spring up, behind me.
Preferably I would like to keep those nights, just without the part where I'm crystalizing my lungs at twenty.