Written while in a circa 60’s decor waiting room down at the state unemployment office

by December 17, 2015 0 comments

Out on lonely-daily job searches
witness men and women unhappily
stuffed in emotionless square spaces
boxed away–Kafka or Gogol
dreamt bureaucratic ensembles
typing notes and obscurantist memos
from the CEO on high…

Admittedly I’m going nowhere
…no concern for my own future
knowing well my drug addled middle
age will arrive homeless and unstable;
ill thoughts, lost in wild imagination
where rests a sad Pan overgrown
with hair and beard turning into a myth.

– Phillip Quotient

editors note:

The true story of how an old nobody got his job as a holiday hipster with a red suit and big bag of toys. – mh clay

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