That heavy, thick feeling left under your eyelids
After a rough night of drinking
Groggy.
Unable to focus on the thin curve of your snarled mouth
As you drone on and on about regulations
******* of a ***** boss with no brains
His whining voice grating along my nerve endings
How can I be proud of a sell out?
Scrubbing your floors, washing your windows
Attempting to look a little less greasy in a ******* grease shop
The incessant busy buzzing of their corporate mindset bores me to tears
I would rather gauge out my eyes
Set them on fire, then **** on them to put them out
Before I would ever kiss your *** again
My uniform always smells like hot asfault
Simmering in the noon day sun
I am weighed and measured by my performance
Dancing upon a mechanical stage with barrings and wrench to accompany
Each day I need another hit just to curb my urge to massacre
All. Of. Them.
I am only free in the night when shadows linger
Taking me away with swirling words into the vortex of the unknown