Escape

Dust pumps slowly
through the narrow veins
in the crux of my arm.

Dry air leaks
from a dozen small holes
in my chest,

and beige thoughts crawl
around the florescent lit knots
on either side of my head.

My yellows eyes rest
on the pithy quote that adorns
my cloth lined cage

“Bureaucracy is a circle
from which one
cannot escape”

And I smile.

Comments: So yeah this the first poem I have written that I am not completely embarrassed to put out there. Not sure how comfortable I am about writing about work. I mean, shit, I already have to be here, not sure if i should be spending time writing about it. Unless of course...i write about work while i am at work. Yeah i guess I am ok with that. Oh, quote by Karl Marx.