Another day is come
like yesterday and yesterday and yesterday
last week, last month
year upon slow year.
Long seamless days
constant peristalsis with no release.
I used to hope for a better future.
Now I just hope to get done early.
This slow dying isn't killing me fast enough.
Thirty more years of this
and I can shuffle
meekly off to the grave
my bastard life done
the fruits of my labors
safely tucked away
in another man's bank account.
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3 comments:
Happy May Day, everyone. Workers of the world, submit!
So, so powerful. Thank ya kindly for writing this and posting it here.
Carla, thanks for the compliments. I appreciate it. And I know the words are true because I live 'em. You probably do, too.
~"ygrii"
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