Not My Floor

Going up?

I fucking hope so.

First stop looked like forever,

pretty eyes and terrible timing.

I almost called the chaos love 'cause loneliness has good advertising.

She said, "You could stay." I looked around.

Thought about it. Nah.

Not my floor.

Next one had my name on something I swore would make me

rich. Six months later all I owned was passwords and some useless

shit. Everybody loves the dream until the numbers hit the door.

Doors closing.

Not my floor.

NOT MY FLOOR! KEEP THE MOTHERFUCKER MOVING!

I've mistaken enough stops for where I thought that I was going!

Let it open! Let me look!

I've been wrong enough before!

If this is everything I wanted— WHY AM I STILL LOOKING AT

THE DOOR?

NOT MY FLOOR! I ain't saying there's something more—

I just know I'm not getting off here.

CLOSE THE FUCKING DOOR!

Next stop—

cheap room, one chair,

past-due everything. Next stop— work boots,

same clock, same fucking Monday again.

Next stop— Friday night,

empty glass, music louder than my thoughts.

Funny how a place can feel like home just because you've stayed

too long. Then—

Doors opened somewhere beautiful.

Big room.

Good view. People suddenly know my name.

I stepped forward—

Stopped. Looked back at the elevator.

Everybody yelling: "THIS IS IT!" I said—

...Is it?

NOT. MY. FLOOR.

Funny.

I spent half my life

trying to get somewhere.

Now every time I get somewhere…

there's somewhere else.

Maybe that's the problem.

Or maybe that's the fucking point.

...What the fuck? THERE AIN'T NO FLOOR!

THERE AIN'T EVEN A FUCKING BUILDING!

Just a road running forever and for once I kinda feel it!

No sign! No map!

Nobody telling me what's next!

EVERY PLACE I THOUGHT WAS FINISHED WAS ANOTHER FUCKING STEP!

Leave the doors!

Leave the walls!

Leave the numbers I was chasing!

Maybe I was never going up— MAYBE I WAS FUCKING GOING!

Going up? Nah.

Going.