We sit here lost, yet in total recognition
of these surroundings. Each inch of metal,
plastic and fabric that looms overhead is
ingrained against us like ill-fitting clothing
that we never seem to outgrow.
The tapping and clatter of keyboards distracts
us from the broken, uneven chairs that slowly
bend our backs into question marks. They
throw our feet into a perpetual twitch, only
eased by that walk towards the exit.
Day in, day out, those multi-facetted systems
that were never fit for purpose twist what’s left
of our sanity and weave those delicate, dictating
patterns that the slightest shift in this blinding,
white lighting could suddenly change without warning.
As those eight hours wane, and drip around
us all like molten lead, we manage to maintain
any unsavoury communication within our now
tunnelled vision. We hold out for those depleting
beams of light, that shine through that one single window.