my own personal hell
limited movement
outside of the windows
a random car passes
a lone passerby
the lady next door
walks to the mail box
and back
inside
it is so quiet
apart from my typing
on the keybard
i can hear
the corporate hum
of the flourescent lighting
and the bulb that needs
to be replaced is blinking
every so often
the light wavers
dark to light
light to dull
dull to dead
and then bright again
the phone will ring
and startle me
a loud ringer
in a small office
no one on the other end
wanting a long conversation
"are my glasses in?"
they ask
and I answer
and I want to say so many things
like "fuck off retard"
or "oh is this Stevie Wonder"
but I dont
the lady with the pet raccoons
i wish she would call
she was interesting at least
but no
i am stuck here
listening to the hum of the lights
and watching the occassional
car or person in need of mail
and I am asking myself
how the hell did i end up here
trapped in a prison
of perky phone voices
and painful smiles
listening to elevator
music twice a week
and starting to like it
so i go outside
to smoke a cigarette
just in case the lady next door
is bored with her mail
and she will look out and say
"oh she is smoking again"
as she sits in her small office
and listens to the corporate hum
of flourescent lighting.