here i am, getting old and living the groundhog days.
every thought has been thought of before
and ‘generic’ is the word of the days.
every moment is an extension of the one last thought
that was not welcome
and an escapade thence is simply, impossible.
hence, i wake up
forget the dream of wee hours,
eat the measly grains to power up that will end up
in someplace unpleasant later, just like me.
then i run to the White House of crushed entrepreneurship
whence clicking heels and crisp cuffs
are worth more than comfort
of a breathing space –
who cares about human capital, anyway.
the warmth is scarce
and movement, forbidden
so the dance of the sun and the shadows
makes all the difference.
i tie myself up with my colorful scarves
to keep the bleakness from leaking
because the life inside the system is still precious
and the seeds, still fructified.
yet, when I walk in the corridor of nightmares
i see similar souls creating tornados
out of the black draught named ‘coffee’
that allegedly distinguishes between life and death.
they hope it sweeps away all their bad dreams.
though i just think it is the elixir for the dead
and luxury of the undead.
but my groundhog days will come to an end.
skeptically, i say.
however, if i may, this is one lie that makes a bit of sense
for i will have learned all the lessons
and taken all the sessions
with all the fore(wo)mens.
maybe that is when i’ll really graduate
and get my rightful place
at the job market.
or maybe, it’ll be the start of another vicious circle
and there i’ll be
in my cubicle
nibbling my cuticles
googling ‘how to break free from the vicious circles?’