What a dreadful day,
more of that work place rubbish,
all of it on line.
The remore working,
dehumanises people,
into profile pics.
in the afternoon,
the sunshine floods my office,
and brings it alive.
there’s a heaviness,
in the air and in my head,
that rarely passes.
I must seem so dull,
hair unkept and unshaven,
and really don’t care.
Claw marks on the door,
I remember that day well,
as does the other.
Pirates gold, my boy,
and chuckles in his bottle,
with a one eyed wink.
I saw the map then,
an isalnd far out to sea,
past the devil’s reef.
what yer looking at?
he could feel the question hit,
and said, ‘nothing ‘ere!’
Be sure you ‘aven’t,
said the old man grabbing him,
and pushing him down.
He fell in the dust,
and strambled then to his feet,
and just ran away.
