The sounds are monotonous,
amplifying the inanity of
the daily grind.
Hustling hysterically between
waypoints;
hysterically hustling into
oblivion.
A vacation from poverty…
Conscripted willingly
into spiritual bankruptcy;
bled dry
to merely survive.
Left lingering long enough to
yoke the manacles
‒willingly wrought‒
upon the motor of the world.
A commodified ignorance
constructed upon poisoned
promises.
