Day Job:

Jarring, jabbing, groping, grabbing
Slowly slipping
Half alive
Suffering the sameness of mondaytuesdaywednesdaythursdayfriday
9 to 5
Oppressed by the mindtricking, ticktocking Lockness Monster of time
Oppressed by the two…three…four ‘o clockness
Almost five, almost five ‘o clockness
Trudging the mudslide of minutes
The mockery of time
The memory of freedom
The rancid meat of incompleteness
Harboring in my mindless mind
When my veins pump music
A factory of God
A symphony of bone and blood and breath
And everyday this death of dreams asleep
Should I tell the melodies and muses to leave their numbers at the beep?