Free Coffee

Every sense is being eroded away
by this stale atmosphere
until I become just another grey face
answering the phone
realising that I've achieved nothing
and never will.
They provide us with free coffee
which we're supposed to be grateful for
but all it does is heighten the despair.
The only way out of this place is up the corporate ladder
-- where you'll get to harvest fresh souls --
or suicide.
These thoughts make me feel masochistic
so I grab a free coffee
it makes me want to shit.
I slip away to the toilet
it won't flush
I look at the bowl:
it says more than any yearly review
and I know it's time to knot the noose.

The Cat's Eyes

There’s a dead cat outside
slowly decaying in the scorching heat
a crow flies down and examines it
begins pecking at its lifeless eyes
I’m watching all this from my office
surrounded by needless stress
at the mercy of broken air conditioning
how I wish I were that cat.

Cornered by Ambition

My grip on ambition is slowly loosening

each passing day is relentless toil

all the trappings are out of reach

the procrastination of my youth shames me

my current destination appalls me.

No more irons in the fire

reticent from being burnt in the past

by my own laziness.

Blame the world

from behind my directionless life

heading towards a forgetful oblivion.

A strong man wants to be remembered

by making his mark

so he’ll be talked about in years to come

like all my heroes

but only one in a million is a hero

leaving many thousands of cowards.

Maybe I can write my way out of this

avoid this faceless future

leave my mark

get the respect I crave from those I despise

or just give up

and await retirement.

Hot Drive

The sun beats down on my aging Citroen
sapping what's left of my spirit
on this goddamn drive to work
to an industrial estate hell
which even Satan would wince at.

The misery is punctuated only by girls

stripped to the bare minimum by the heat

revealing tanned flesh in all its glory

for a moment I forget about my in-tray

until I see my supervisor getting out of her Ford

a carriage straight from the underworld

paid for by misery and spite

and driven on pure arrogance.

I can see her legs

withered, veined and a sickly shade of death

the same fate that awaits my soul

I turn the car round and head home.