By Jessica Gleason
The years rolled by,
somehow in quick flashes
and feeling heavily of forever.
It’s like you can run,
but you’ll never really exit
the wheel, round and round,
wake up, stumble through the day,
and repeat.
Each day grumbling unhappy
nothings into the ether,
swearing you’ll leave this time.
Others join you in a rousing
rejection of this place
and it’s bullshit ethics,
but no one ever really moves.
You want to, they all do,
trapped like cattle, every
detail micromanaged,
policies to make you feel
like you’re not really capable
of understanding dirty
torn clothes aren’t appropriate
for corporate life.
Your exodus is pending,
but it’s stuck, jammed
in the printer, with today’s
agenda and a stack
of useless memos.
Jessica Gleason is an author, poet, and visual artist muddling her way through life. Gleason is a writing professor who enjoys wearing Star Trek uniforms and singing a mean hair metal karaoke. Her short poetry collection, “Sundown on this Town,” is available from Popcorn Press. She’ll also be included in “Hear Us Scream: The Voices of Horror Vol. 2”. https://jgwrites.carrd.co/
