Black shoes,
Khaki pants,
Black belt, (with stylish diagonal slits showing perpendicular streaks of blue)
Black button-up, short-sleeve shirt
Black apron,
Magnetic name tag,
Armor against thought,
Protection against economy,
Uniform against freedom,
Talk and waste time
Clock in early
Start with a bathroom break
Work slow, steady, part-time
Don’t worry about it
It’s just a job
It takes with it the sun
Wake up and set the day on my shoulders
Drag it across the sky, into a fancy faceless strip mall
Pack it into frames, pack myself into lunch
Pack the sunset, rearrange all the frames
Punch the clock, and walk into the cold
So much dragging, carrying, hunching, leaning
Exhaustion builds, multiplies
Thoughts and execution, school and work
Trampled over by them, by it all
Relationships, or attempts, and friends
Give me sleep, give me sleep
I understand The Situationists now
I understand the Spectacle
I feel it, did they plan it this way?
Now instead of outrage I only feel like sleep.
Copyright 2010 Andrew Whiting
See Andrew Whiting. Read Andrew writing. 
Good one. Thanks