Tag Archives: thinking

Work….


He wanted nothing more than an escape, his grip on reality was slipping. His days merging into total chaos, like a whirlwind sucking him into a dark abyss.

It was Sunday night, his stomach was in knots. Another day of typing, another day sat in a room filled with fluorescent light and the sounds of people selling their souls and drowning in thoughts of horror.

“five days…Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thur….Fri….” he punches the mirror, he can’t even look at himself. Looking down at his numb fist he watched the crimson flow drip slowly into the sink “I need to escape, start again…I need my life back” he opened the bathroom door, his flat was small and in sheer disrepair. His lounge was his bedroom and also his kitchen it consisted of a singular cupboard with a microwave on top and a single mattress on bare floorboards covered in stains. It was dark and damp. The smell of death was ever present and despite several complaints to his landlord, it fell on deaf ears.

He lay down on his bed and tuned his radio to BBC radio five live as always. He felt hungry, his lips were dry and his eyes stinging from a constant migraine that never seemed to stop. He always had the radio on whilst he slept, it drowned out his thoughts and made him feel safe in the darkness. Secretly he enjoyed listening to other people’s woes, with Stephen Nolan asking “outside the box questions” in a cut throat manor. Tonight was no different to any other Sunday night, he closed his eyes laying naked on his bed. It was cold, goosebumps spread down his skinny Mal nourished body.

“I’m fed up of today’s society Stephen, Snow flakes…that is all they are. In my day I would work fifteen hours straight Monday to Saturday, I had six kids to feed and was paid £10.00 a month. Now tell me how that is fair?” The radio presenter took a long pause…”your pathetic you work nine to five Monday to Friday earning £1000 per month…and you say you can’t do it? You really are a worthless creep and you don’t deserve any better because your not capable of earning it” He took another pause “this gent is right you have to work hard and do what you need to do to live and that is it”.

The room began to spin as he opened his eyes he could see nothing but blackness, the radio was talking to him again…”do the right thing Micheal we know you are listening to us, do the right thing and contribute to our great Britain, you cannot and will not defy us. Work is the only way out. Work until you can no longer work, then you can die.

“What do you want from me…I can’t do this you can’t control me I’m a human being I’m alive…” He picked up the radio and in a blind rage threw it across the room, the sound of intermittent static filled the room…”hahaha your alive because we allow you to be alive….you work for us we own you. You will work for us until you die and there’s nothing you can do about it.

He stood up, he struggled with his balance walking towards the window, he knew how to finally escape. He climbed upon his window sill, his vision still blurry and dizzy. The room fell silent the radio was smashed to bits. He turned his head to take one last look. The cold wind penetrated his flesh, he turned to look back at what he was leaving behind.

“Fuck it….”.

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The deceiving bankers


The homeless man in town
Sits and stares with a frown.
Bound by the inability –
To live, to love , to moan.
He sits and wanders
When is his end?
Today –
Tomorrow –
Next year.

Who knows this man I speak of?
He is everywhere that is nowhere
You see him wherever you go.
He will smile at you, in return
You walk on -because you don’t care.

Splendid weather outside today
The sounds of nature fuel our hearts.
This man still sits there -running on nothing, Waiting for something.
It’s wishful thinking he will survive
But the truth it seems is deceiving.

You have seen this man before.
Only ten years prior, this man was rich,
A banker of trades with a pound sign in his name.
Now you know who he is
Does this mean he deserves a smile?
Or the gutter he resides in
Should be left unclean –
Most would suggest he waste away- in the stench of people’s money.
A few others may pity his soul.
I picked him up -out of the gutter
I took him home, hungry I offered food.
Yes sir, do you have any caviar?

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