Where Dreamers Go To DieStocking shelves with ketchup like old men stock wine cellars,Where Dreamers Go To Die3 years ago in Concrete Poetry More Like This
Fondly remembering good friends with each bottle slid into place,
Fondly remembering their wives and their children,
Fondly remembering their funerals.
It's hard to say why I feel the way I do.
Most likely an overreaction -
The only type I seem to have as of late.
It's as if this place is an affirmation of all my fears,
With dirty plates and clinking cutlery,
With fake smiles and false laughter,
With the way that,
When that uniform is donned on,
I cease to be human,
And I commence life as a living machine.
This is the cage in which I'll be trapped if my aspirations fall flat.
This is the place dreamers go to die.