Cubicle Life

click click, click click, tick-tock, tick-tock, the clock seems to tick not as fast as one wants, the air conditioner stops now they can hear you chew, after the first week, you knew this wasn't the right job for you. two years go by, collectively this repetition makes the time fly but each day feels like two weeks in the mind, a backwards reality, a 21st century tragedy, too much of this will make one mad you see, its just not natural - self destruction will take place gradually in search of a new end goal, something nourishing to the soul, perhaps a little creative control, a bit more spiritual, and a little less ritual, how about less them, and a little more you, knowing you have the ability to pursue anything you want to do, but for now you keep your head down just trying to see the day through and then forcefully recoup - praying the IT department doesn't notice you scrolling down poetry soup:)