work

lost in these ever changing mazes of chain link fences and angry men in hard hats

showers of sparks and spent water bottles like a bread crumbs left by pollutant little children

it’s already too hot

sweat dripping from the twenty minute walk from rental car to machine

humidity and stagnant air make it all worse for the wear and i tell myself, ten more hours at least maybe longer

who can tell in a sunless place where time and hope have lost all sense of meaning, just another slog through hell

are we jailor or prisoner, i don’t know any longer, one or the other term has been rendered moot by the same old routine

so we continue

ever onward

into the depths from which i fear there may be no escape

maybe we don’t deserve freedom

this is purgatory perhaps

we work of sins until our souls shine slightly less tarnished and then we may take our place with the angels

or sink lower into sin

i know which one i’m picking

down down into the pits

see my friends and family members there

better music, better drink, better company

no sanctimonious bastards need disturb my eternity

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