Work
Poem on Career
The beep of biometric
marks another day of
Ordeal
the prison-
closed
The Stairs-
a way to hell
The desk –
a loony bin of trash
where files keep piling up
one above the other
and laugh at my flimsy vow
of ‘keep it clean’
The work –
a swarm of bees
which comes with diseases –
insomnia, anxiety, and delirium
My eyes –
strained, restless and red
Midst of all this mess,
My thought –
One more task, before I rest
no matter I am caught up in
mental arrest
New files open
Old ones still due
After every meeting
To-do list comes anew
The torn papers scatter
all over the floor
making a clumsy white mattress
that encircles my chair
The throat feels dry
but the bottle stays full
Stomach starts to groan
but lunch is gone.
Machines are working
on machines
I wonder
Do they become humans
when they leave?
