Workday

[rowens]

I come to sit at my desk,
struggling through the maze of untamed
cars and bikes and silly proud footmen.
They seem to believe they are made of iron.

I look over your desk, my friend,
to see myself as if you are a mirror,
a clear one at that, you show me
little cuts i made during shave today.


The I and i change-ups happen a lot in this.


I look over to the bosses office,

boss's

and his overdressed secretary, a cruel beauty
she is , like a demoness with fangs

Do you want that space before the comma?

supple breasts and dark eyes.

I look to the boss, a happy man
he seems, i do not know him.
His happiness grows as he sinks his
teeth deeper into my hosting body.

Oh! a day gone by without rest,
i am tired and sick, i search for answers
within these walls, i seek forever
i will not find, for i am a worker.