Shifting under my skin,
seeping into my gums,
a sensation of emence pressure,
and awareness to unbear.

Slouching with a blue bib chain,
hung around the neck,
and heavy floride notes
tickling my tounge.

Goggles sliding along my face,
Sweat rolling down wet strands of hair.
Pulling away like velcro strips,
the sound of eagerness
and hot summer swelter.

That office chair makes me shake with anticipation,
Spotlight in yellow hues,
beaming down upon me.
Staring off until team appears
and the numbness fades in.

Time for another change.

For inconvienient, expensive exposure
with a little bit of me set to be disposed.

Here I am
The shadow of a man
That never was.

karma is a thing of irony
its wheel can
turn
in the other directions
hour of
burn

be
not
a
fool
be
aware
of
the
change
shown
by
the
spool

the run of the mill team
sought a popularity
tag
and on gaining it were
able to cockily
brag

they'd disposed of
the crowd pleasing
Wolf and Rabbi
this did bring them
a greater share
of the pie

karma will
alter its lot
in the due passage of time
tick tock
              tick tock
                            tick tock
a date marked
with its
paradoxical chime