With the ring
of a bell
my day begins.
Work.
Tons of tedious tasks.
Trails of treachery.
Tripping over
my soul
until I’m dead.
Work.
Satisfy the customer
and the cycle ends.
But only until
it begins again.
At night
I try on darkness.
It has whiskey,
blue eyes,
and ears to hear
my sorrows.
Weekends tease
with time to tarry,
but oh so very short.
Work.
Work.
Work.