By Stuart Whomsley
Getting up too early to commute to be in a place
it turned out you did not have to be in after all.
Doors with swipe cards, security cameras, open plan, monitors, fake wood desks, other people’s conversations,
the sound of a telephone down the corridor that rings
and rings and rings.
Small kitchen, coffee, tea, a jar for money, a fridge with milk, sandwiches in Tupperware boxes.
The house of correction
meaningless tasks.
Keyboards full of crumbs, post its, biros, pads, stapler,
hole puncher.
Hope punctured.
Time drained from lives through spread sheets of death.
The way we used to live. Turns out the good old days were
a bit shit.
I live in Newark on Trent in Nottinghamshire and am a member of DIY poets in Nottingham.
I am currently working from home and using the saved commute time to get fit and to write poetry.