I sit here by my bedroom wall
my back on stone, cold concrete

I stare at a future as bleak as the white wallpaper
peeling off the edge

Why is my worth
based off of a single sentence
the only referral to what I can or cannot do

I have plenty to offer
beyond the lines of A4 paper

And yet society scan these things
with cold eyes and cold minds
drawing a line to what I can or cannot do

And in the end,
I conform to those lines
tucking away the other sides of me

Feeling as though I have nothing to offer
for I do not fit within the boundaries
of those lines

****.
I'm locked in again
Not paralysed but stuck.
Not sure what to do.
Each task appears barbed
Like it will pierce my heart.
I could make a piece of jewellery
Write my story
Make an animation
Or tidy up?
Any would do...
But instead I sit here
Not sure how to proceed.
It's like the other things that I woudn't do
Stop me doing any of the other things that I could do.
D-E-C-I-D-E from the latin
"Decidere"
To cut off!
To seperate!

Okay, jewellery it is,
I will check the van...

An immigrant took our
                                    jobs.
        
                   I never saw it..  
  But It gave me a cough..

mortgage was half paid
punched the clock
global virus roared

When do we knock off?
Home offices, not for toffs,
I stagger to the desktop,
Yikes, another job!
Guess it won't take me long,
******* my phone, my new song,
We can afford gas for cars vehicular,
But not allowed anywhere particular,
So, we work in the home office,
Jobs designed for masochists!

The time I spent at school was miserable
and I envy those who had a great time
though the end was beautiful
Being there was a waste of time

I know it may seem a little sad
but seriously, it was just awful
I did slack on some days
but for that, I am thankful
because I didn't waste any time
on something so deceitful
Something outright hurtful to the mind.

Remember to come out alive as a human
and not as a machine
for you are a man
not a machine.

I got this job because I was seventeen
Available everyday at three
In debt with a man after I went clean
My boss at the time was thirty six with a goatee
Five dollars an hour plus tip, you see
It was fine for me.

I met the others standing by the kitchen line
All of them with the same look in their eye
Lying to family and friends saying, financially, their fine
Getting nothing on a tip and never knowing why
Yet they return the next day to serve white wine

Looking around I see all of us wanted more
But I’m in debt and you have to pay the rent
Do it all in one day and go home to a son that’s four
Under the thumb of an old vice president

The roof over the kitchen is about to cave in
And we watch with silent eyes
Because our uniforms are being held with safety pins
Promised new ones but Corporate lies

And when the bubble in the ceiling pops
We’ll be by the dumpsters flicking cigarettes on the road
While the greedy pigs come in drawing lots
Waiting for the gas stove to explode

Paid vacation sounds lovely
Been here every week for the past year
Sometimes I’m called to  come in early
Pick up the broken glass from lunch rush beer

The people come in
Angry as they usually are
Now the glares don’t even touch my skin
It makes me laugh how many nasty people sit at the bar
The high-class families who come in for din

It’s been eight hours and six years
Since we started our shift
Staying here for three more is the biggest fear
But we’re already ******
We’ve been here for long we know this career

What else am I supposed to know
Other than how to make dough

It’s been a long night
You can see it in the height
Of cigarette buts by the dumpster
Where we can freely talk about the customer

It’s a busy life
Feels like we’re running out of time
To get out and ignore the strife
But there are times when the tips make us feel sublime

And we can buy a warm meal
Cause maybe it will heal
These aching muscles
That come from a constant hustle

Don’t you see why they say
At the end of the day
We need an ashtray.

Forty tears were pooled in his eyes.

A reality of hardship sunk in
Capsizing a boat of fears.

his parents had left him a penniless bloke
his time would be spent trying to stay afloat

The daily news would house all the jahbs
the other families &  friends were pointing him away from trouble

He would meet a new boss.
A stomach never tiring of crisscrosses

When he sat -down inspection began
Was he trusted to be a stan
Finally accepted he began forging minerals

The door closed at the home.
The company issued tools.
Heavy iron forged together with mighty wood.

Clear yellow lights illuminated the mine’s dark

A new spot would be all to him.
He began picking and digging
The earth's rocks, and dirt.

Learning other names was to be his strong suit.
But ability and strength left him with cahoots.

Soon heart's pumped laughs
Sending echo’s down the earth mine's shaft

Curing the ailed eyes
Of a boy with no ties