A Cry

This is a cry for change
From one who’s eyes have gone square
From staring at spreadsheets
Mind begging for something strange

A respite from a monotony of right angles
Please give me a tangle
Of jungle vines and steaming streams
Why is it all that I can see
Is a over crowded car park
Vibrant hues of showy paint jobs
Covering grey steel
Over grey asphalt
Under grey skies

So much fucking grey.

But I know that way out there beyond
Is a globe of infinite colour
A sea of new treats for my eyes
Yet I’m stuck in this stagnant pond

There’s so much to explore
So much to adore
But how do you get to it when you’re dirt poor?

I spend endless hours gazing
With wide rectangular eyes
As my youtube heroes, household zeroes
Jet over and over into foreign skies

So many people have turned their lives
Into a flipbook of permanent adventure
And I’m so green it’s flowing from my pores
Overflowing
Puddling on the floor
Drowning in my own bitter envy
Inside I’m screaming
WHY ISN’T IT ME

 

Because I know it could be.

 

 

(2018. Written at my desk, at my third temp job in four months, on a particularly grim February morning.)

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