workplace modern world (Remove filter)
The Screen
Words flicker on the screen blocking out our dreams
They want more and more not nine hours but twenty spinning the clock till we crawl on the floor
Words decay in front of our of eyes a meaningless babble cross referenced and died
Then they lift our dying limbs to type a few more
Then leave our rotting carcass by the door
Monday 3rd December 2018 8:49 pm
Recent Comments
Martin Elder on Call me soon
27 minutes ago
Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh on for the Unbroken
55 minutes ago
Yanma Hidayah on Between Morning and Night
1 hour ago
Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh on HAIKU DON BHLIAIN 2025 [UIMHIR A TRÍ DÉAG]
1 hour ago
Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh on Bread and Roses
2 hours ago
Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh on Haiku for 2025 [N. 12 KNEECAP]
2 hours ago
Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh on Forget-Me-Not
3 hours ago
Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh on Reference in Rhyme
3 hours ago
Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh on Life in blues.
3 hours ago
Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh on Gray Hair
3 hours ago