Work poem

When sat at a desk

And watching the clocks

Life doesn’t exist

Every. Thing.  Stops.

Mud fills your brain

Blood pools in your feet

The vitality drains

You’re just meat

Each minute an hour

The seconds slink by

Each moment an eon

Recurring like pi

Slave to the moment

The flickering screen

No doubt about it

It’s no dream

It’s death by boredom

This terrorist time

Each second a cut

A pain sublime.