Poem | the frey of the 9-5.

The spokes person

for the masses

will have always been

my executioner.

But it’s not personal,

It never was, and

never will be.

They have just

now pulled up;

and have finally

come to claim me.

I ponder my life.

What loose ends

will only ever

have frayed.

The moment

came and I

was all together

drowned in apathy.

Knock, knocK, kCoCk…

I get up and

put into motion

their plan.

Let them in, as

I leave my house

to go to work

that day.

…