Been feeling rather
like I’ve been,
tossed out with the trash again,
been hearing laughter
inside my brain,
for getting played like a slot machine,
been taking refuge
in a jackal’s den,
naked, with a so-called gentleman,
been driven into
the wall again,
petal to the metal into the median,
been feeling nothing
but pure obscurity,
a vague and insecure uncertainty,
been here wondering
imprisoned by my own duplicity,
been tapping constantly
on the keys ‘til my fingers bleed,
to dispel the hurt I’ll feel inevitably,
been like, yeah – well, maybe,
I’ve been shafted again,
sour, that out-dated milk carton,
been eating candy,
vainly, to try and sweeten,
the taste of my faith going quickly rotten.
Shame on them all, the blind fuckheads that they are…how soon we forget where we came from.
- You’ve got Ms. Office Manager of “Deliverance”:
too caught up in her own confusion and cluelessness to even realize what a mistake it was to put someone as lacking in workplace knowledge and ethic as herself in charge. She calls shots and plays smart as the accounting department goes to shambles because she doesn’t know shit about what she’s doing from day to day. Not cold hearted, but heartless. Not even kidding anyone about anything, despite her failed self-imaging of a Jedi Master.
Then there’s lil Miss “Princess Complex” Assistant Manager:
She’s like 12 years old, in every way besides her ungainly height…the very last kind of person on Earth you wanna give any control to because yeah, she likely blows kisses to herself in the mirror whenever she gets the chance. This one is single handedly holding up the accounting department, and this can’t last. The gods have put her quite the lose-lose predicament, though she doesn’t know it yet. Too young for me to really hate forever.
Next, there’s Wednesday Addams, the unknowing lame:
So what? Wow, she inputs data and walks around like a permanent Mad Dog, with the most miserably frowning face imaginable every moment of every day. She covertly snitches on co-workers, pays far too much attention to what everyone else is doing, and was personally offended by Miss Princess Complex’s promotion to Assistant Manager when it happened, talking long shot about the entire situation. I’ve never heard her say anything remotely positive about the company etc. If any workplace on the planet had fewer employees like her, the world would be a better place.
The kicker to this scenario is that the rest of “the team” bust their collective assets to hold everything together: good, bad or otherwise. It tolls heavily. Then, the instant somebody speaks up about the conditions that we’re working under, it’s announced that employees are not allowed to walk around expressing any type of dissatisfaction.
Well Wednesday Addams gets to walk around looking looking like her dog just got run over by a car.
Fuck that place, I’m blessed to have finally gotten out.
The department that accounts for things,
Holds very few true human beings,
Its evolved a new breed of “humanity”,
They’ve created a place full of resentment and greed.
The sound most often heard is the sniveling,
Of entitlement and its non-stop complaining,
To a point where nobody wants to be,
party to the effort made so bitterly.
Where it feels like an impossibility,
to face another day of such futility,
the management can’t seem to see,
Any sliver of what’s good, in reality,
They smile because they’re making money,
All the while, look at us in our misery,
Make it rain on us while outside it’s sunny,
We live like fiends on pay that cant keep,
Our bellies full, or make our ends meet,
There’s a child sitting in the manager’s seat,
And they call this “Dignity”.
It’s been 16 long and theiving months of it all; and now that it’s over and my mama has passed away, it feels like a dream: halfway surreal and traumatic, and halfway a street that’s enveloped by fog too thick to navigate.
All I can say is that it’s over.
..and the torment is wrapped up. My mama has lost the fight.
I’ve never felt so alone.
And, Ive spent my life feeling alone.
…didn’t know this kind of alone was even possible.
My fingertips are pins and needles,
That tuck the hospital corners of your world,
and smooth the blankets of your mind,
It’s chaos, come to adjust the pillows ’round your heart,
Anxiety, come to massage your broken hands,
See my sparkling, salt encrusted crown of worry,
Ever thickening with hardness,
Never weakening with softness,
My fingertips are ten tiny doorways,
That seek you out, thus desperately
It’s a welcome party sporting shotguns,
It’s death, come to holler in the deafened ears,
Life, come to go away again,
See my hate-infused senses trying so hard to love,
Ever faltering with drunkenness,
Ever drinking in this emptiness.