Monday’s Song: Thursday, “For the Workforce, Drowning”

Falling from the top floor,
your lungs fill like parachutes,
windows go rushing by;
people inside
dressed for the funeral
in black and white.
These ties strangle our necks,
hanging in the closet,
found in the cubicle;
without a name, just numbers
on the resume stored in the mainframe,
marked for delete.

Please take these hands,
throw them in the river!
Wash away the things they never held!
Please take these hands,
throw me in the river!
Dont let me drown before the workday ends.

9 to 5! 9 to 5!

And we’re up to our necks,
drowning in the seconds,
ingesting the morning commute
(lost in a dead subway sleep).
Now we lie wide awake in our parents beds,
tossing and turning.
Tomorrow we’ll get up,
drive to work
single file
with everyday—
it’s like the last.
Waiting for the life to start,
is it always just always ahead of the curve?

Just keep making copies
of copies
of copies!
When will it end?

(it’ll never end,
until it gets so bad
that the ink fills in our fingerprints
and the silouhette of your own face becomes the black cloud of war
and even in our dreams we’re so afraid the weight will offset who we are;
all those breaths that you took have now been canceled in your lungs.
last night my teeth fell out like ivory typewriter keys
and all the monuments and skyscrapers burned down and filled the sea)

Save our ship!
The anchor is part of the desk.
We can’t cut free.
The water is flooding the decks,
the memos sent through the currents,
computers spark like flares. 
I can see them,
they don’t touch me,
touch me.

Please someone,
teach me how to swim.

Please, don’t let me drown.

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