my body is
painfully aware
despite the lies
told in flashing
red digits
or the birdsong
of tentative
triple declinations
it is not nearly
six in the morning

the bastards
that run this
abhorrent shitshow
use imaginary
concepts to
shackle the simpletons
adjusting the
clocks to create
longer work hours
carefully manipulating
currencies while
inflation spikes
recording record
profits in a
time of woe

subtly slipping in
subliminal messaging
to convince us
the weekend was not
constructed as a
means of separating
the docile workers
and the money
they slaved over
but a deserved reset
before doing it all
over and over again
an illusionary freedom
painted by the forced
perspective of the
common worker trying
desperately to ascend
the corporate ladder

my body is
painfully fucking aware
despite the lies
flashing in red
time is a construct
used to measure the
long stretches
achingly flowing
between brief moments
of delusionary happiness
as the birds sing
in a distorted loop