The Opposite of Freedom

days meld into nights,

nights into days.

sitting on a desk all day,

typing away meaningless

words while my corporate

overlord pigs get fatter.

a bleak gritty horizon

for miles. every mote of

dust telling me:

get the hell out of here.

I cannot breath here.

I am alone here.

prompt - an abstract thing in concrete words Written for NaPoWriMo. April 4th

www.napowrimo.net