Sign in to follow this  

My poem for you...

Recommended Posts

Call Center Blues

by Aaron


How easy it is to get lost

in the halls of this building.

White washed with blue trim,

the length is a long step

taken backwards.


And in the open spaces

lay rows of cubicles.

Steel and cardboard

coated with tan fabric

sewn to surfaces-

a thousand monitors

sit patiently waiting.


This is the center of the earth,

the well where buckets are drawn.

There is only a soft hum

of the computers,

and the deep breath

of the ghosts that dwell within

the framework of a dream.


Look out the window,

that world is not yours,

it exists only in fantasy.

The trees are a commodity.

The roads are vessels of production.

The parking lot is filled with hearses,

waiting to shuttle the dead to their homes.

Edited by Twinner

Share this post

Link to post
Share on other sites
Sign in to follow this