We are all animals, caged.
Pacing the square footage of our space.
Each step counted inside this place.
Our culture tames by shame.
By the guilt we frame.
To make sure we will not follow through.
I sit and stare at multiple screens.
I sit and listen to humming machines.
Printers and keyboards.
Phone calls on this office floor.
I walk the hallway to hunt coffee.
Stalk it down as it drains into my cup.
Stretch your legs or you might give up.
Bathrooms are private spaces.
Places to stare at the mirror and
wonder who you are.
I knock out twenty-five pushups
on the piss stained floor.
I shadow box myself in the mirror.
Imagining myself seeing clearer.
Beyond the screens.
To mountaintops full of green.
The hunter no longer gathers.
His ego, shattered.