[unnamed poem]
i wrote this yesterday.
Silence.
he sits at his desk, his desk.
He can remember every detail.
The manager tells him what he needs to do.
But does he need to?
He gets it done,
only after hours of procrastination.
The manager is proud with his false initiative.
The other employees didn't even do anything.
"Good work"
He nods.
At the day's end. He leaves.
It's getting dark
He goes down into the subway,
Sits by people he doesn't care for.
Goes home.
His empty home, his home.
eats cold leftover.
Sits in bed not tired, but tired.
Tired of the same old.
He sleeps.
He wakes.
He readies himself for work.
Clocks in,
Sits down,
silence.