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Joelle Sep 6
We own the night streets.
Once the stores close,
we find ourselves staring down
the tenebrous highway, occupied by only streetlights
that fly by our peripherals like birds.

We haven't seen birds in awhile.
The only glimpse of sunlight you get is the day poking
through our blinds as we sleep.
The sound of children playing on the street-
is no longer a sound that brings lightness to the heart.
It pulls from our troubled sleep, and we simply smother our faces into the sheets that we need to be washed.

The smell of oil can easily be washed out of clothes,
but, it lingers on the skin, seeping into our being.
Our identity is slowly being crushed by work.
Dust collect on books, video games, CDs, instruments-
which sit not unforgotten but neglected.

There is never enough time for a meal.
We line our bellies with granola bars, frozen food and coffee-
yet, food surrounds us at work.
The smell permeates the air while
hands tremble and rolls of nausea make us weak.

Sometimes, a primal anger slips by,
an indignant anger that wonders how life could be so meaningless yet joyless?
Our ancestors sat in fields, contemplating clouds as they drifted across a great blue sky.
Outside windows, the evening sky speaks to us,
resonating more than a manager's words ever could.
Nicholas Rew Apr 2015
It's difficult, purposturous even, for some to conceive
Of a life that is fought for

A sense of security earned
With every waking hour you've been cursed

They baffle at the mute colors with which you paint
And half heartedly smile,

As they pass, with their fluorescent teeth
Yours ***** and yellow

From the brown water that has become your gasoline
From the cigarettes that are now your oxygen tank

The good air is all bought up
The good food is all turned to ****

**** for you to envy
As you scrub

They will loan you a dream
Knowing it is an unclimbable mountain

Because they are waiting at the top
With the soul of a shoe

You eat stew out of habit
Always chasing the wild rabbit
#struggling #school #nomoney #minimumwage

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