So… I came across this poem (if that’s what you call it) I wrote a while back, and decided to post it. This one was kind of a hit with my circle of friends who can relate to the topic.
I don’t know…. maybe I’ll post more poetry from now on?
Slipping into the tiny outfit of
Skin clinging black
My integrity gets stuffed into a bag
to be in purgatory until after clock out
Another night, 8 more hours, another hundred bucks
Biting my tongue, chewing your pompous questions, digesting what’s left of my pride.
I don’t want to talk about where I’m from, the weather, why I’m here
I wouldn’t want to mislead you into thinking I see anything other than
my rent, my cell phone bill, my groceries… when I look into your eyes
My shallow smile, thank you’s of sweet syrup, empty promises to remember anything you just said…
Don’t get it twisted,
that soggy dollar bill you strained to leave me
is the only reason I’m here.
Some nights are better than others
On bad nights I’m deafened by you passively screaming:
To serve you is to be beneath you.
Your self-importance swells every time you realize
my fate lies in that little dotted line
What a playground for the patronizing.
So you smugly sip your mojito and leave me nothing….just because you can…
and I daydream about going to your job to force you to work for free.
On good nights I soothe myself with the comforting certainty:
I’m of superior intelligence. and talent.
And you think it sucks to be me?
But only the brawn of the jaded can muscle enough strength to rise above.
I still care too much to ignore.
Another night, 8 hours gone, another hundred bucks.
Step back into myself
at least until the same time tomorrow….