Tuesday, 5 April 2011

Built-in Obsolescence

Daylight grinds through your bloodshot eyes
like laser scopes marking up targets,
and the first thought of the day is
the last you wish that you ever had
because you know that any question you ask
has an answer no one dares to give.
That rattle in your chest is a
second hand component falling loose
as your stomach digests itself after
that one piece of toast you had time to eat
before your mind got stuck in a loop
attempting to figure out exactly why
the difference between a “career”
and a job or employment is something
that just does not compute, for them.
When no success is great enough and
the smallest failure is too much,
even acting for yourself would be
like breaking the laws of robotics.
Unable to think of anything other
than hardwired, textbook responses
you sit in your cubicle answering
phones that just will not stop ringing;
whilst sending out emails that
everyone else is too lazy to write
in between bouts of wondering
where you can find your off switch;
and grumbling into latrine-water,
25p-a-cup Nescafé coffee.
Your only consolation is that they
don’t make machines to last forever,
because there’s no money in it.

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