The light shines
across my face
and I feel alive for the first time
in days
but as I pull my car into
the company lot
the light is blocked out
and life goes back to
nothingness.
I swear I can’t go on living like this
cutting off my own dick
losing my balls
and sacrificing my body.
It’s the same thing every morning
shooting up the same elevator
sitting in the same chair
waiting for people to jump
out from their corners
with sharpened knives
to stab me in the back.
A daily exercise in medieval supernatural sorcery
of the rarest kind,
something of which
they’re all masters at.
And oh yes! they gurgle my blood!
their cups runneth over,
leaving me
dry, pale
and weak.
I have no energy
to find my way out
so there I’ll be
in the end,
a withered up old man
sitting in the same chair
with the squeaky seat,
tripping down the stairs at noon
to make it to the cafeteria on time
now surrounded by young people
talking about the same life
I used to talk about living
when I was young.
But they’ll be gone soon too,
we’ll all be gone
every last one of us,
some before me
and others after,
but we’ll all end up
as the same type of dust
blowing.
I step onto the sidewalk
and they see me coming
waving me over
but I turn away
pretending they don’t exist
as I smile
all the way
back to the car
leaving as if I were
never there,
here for the last time.
-
Author:
Justin Edse (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: August 18th, 2024 20:10
- Category: Reflection
- Views: 6
- Users favorite of this poem: Cheeky Missy
Offline)
Comments2
And to think we chased at the bit, dying for adulthood.
Yes, isn't that the truth!? If they had told us what really went on as adults we would have ran for the hills. I know I would have.
Feelings that many share this poem drips with s sense of purposelessness, frustration and anger. A sense of angst is present in the daily routine. Nicely written
Thank you very much sir, greatly appreciated! Yes, sometimes it just seems to flow out of me.
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