The Greatest Boss in the World

When the sun has yet to rise and paint the sky
a pale and sanguine blue,
I am already on the clock
punching keys like a little brother’s chest in a
one-sided game of torture.

when the moon still hovers softly 
and pallid fruits and tentacles bleed on the crest of
the misty morn 
I am already working for The Man,
tapping keys until the letters fade and disappear,
and only memories can save me now

(and the stories poems plays
articles memoirs novels novellas
are never really finished)

so when the moon has yet to rise and paint the sky
a deep molested black I am already on the clock
punching keys
working for the Man

and that Man is me, the Greatest Boss in the World…hands down.

 

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