Living

...And so constraint and modest, we march towards work like
soldiers;
No shame, no pride, no nothing; our hearts have long been
raped.
In trains we greet each other, and walk the aisle like
strangers
Inhibited and troubled by taxes and by debt.
 
No age in this, we’re equal. Upon life’s gripping problems
We all look out the windows: eyes filled with morning sun...
Hands weak, held down together, hunched back and stripped off
honour
Like rabbits chased by bulldogs, set out by men for fun.
 
We all know where we’re heading; we ought to; it’s our
thousandth...
Or millionth time even we’ve done this trip for work;
So dull and used to being these ugly finger-puppets,
We’re meaning shit to no one and nothing to the world.
 
And yet we keep on going, betrayed by failing structures
And laws to make us wither and shrivel up like straws;
I feel so down; this writing makes working even harder...
And there’s no way to figure which one makes living worse.
 
My mom will soon retire. I miss her so. Each evening
Her memory takes my torture and puts my head to sleep.
I picture her so kindly, like when we two were children,
And were too young to value how hard life must have been.
 
But now it’s me who suffers. I thought I’d be winner:
Out on my own creating foundations for lost dreams...
I see now that we’re nothing; I feel now that we’re simple
And just like sand we linger and vanish in the wind.