Open Mic / Spoken


This office chair has the imprint of my body. That’s what I was afraid of.

All these people around me talking as if they have a single clue

of who to be or what to do and rambling about nothing of substance. just big paychecks and stroking their power tripping egos.

No, I won’t say sorry for bumping into you and wrinkling your brand new freshly pressed suit.

But, what I will say is sorry to the people you’ve wronged to get to where you are

and goodbye to the last shred of decency inside of you once upon a time

except with this story, it doesn’t have a happy ending

Since your human compassion is long gone and moved on, right? out with the old and in with the new

that’s just how you do. Bye to the things that used to suffice and say hi to the unnecessary new way of life

Filling your garage with expensive cars to prove everything to nobody

Tuck in my shirt? I guess you would want me to be just like you

Perfect cubicle. perfect shoes. Perfect sales goals met every month

I hate to tell you but, that’s far from perfect. You’re not a role model, Mr. 9-5

Your dress shirt is pressed too tight against your beer gut. you’re strung out on energy drinks and stress and you’re surrounded by cigarette smoke

Suffocating every last 15 year old dream you ever had

think I’m crazy? just ask Lindsey or generic whats her face a few desks over and be greeted with enough sass and attitude that’ll it remind you to not ignore the emptiness in your heart

Maybe you shouldn’t of wrote off those ridiculous aspirations in your past life. Welcome to regret. 40 hours a week.

It wasn’t just the excessive attitude. It was more so the ugly picture her voice paints in your head. the ” I need to speak to your manager” type of customer on the weekend at your local retail stores. Still fresh off that bitchy high from work on Friday where she got to put down everyone around her for their mistakes just for her to constantly miss the face of hers due to the fact they’re buried  6 feed under along with your old dreams, Mr. 9-5.

But don’t mind me

I don’t meet sales quotas

I don’t have a closet full of fancy clothes

dressing up my failure to believe, like you do sir

And when you go home to your king sized bed for one

Your business success as you call it won’t be the one holding you tight

It’ll be your heart wrenching for one last chance to fight.




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