Our Hasty Future

I live in a compartment It’s called an apartment. Morning after morning I step into an orifice, Call it my office. Who breathes here? Who can taste lunch? Suspicion’s the only hunch Numbers, the chasers here. Sunset is a distant memory, I yearn to feel breeze on my face. But the irreverent hands of the mighty clock, They invalidate their own despotic laws. Homes like hives And restless lives We are faceless cronies And space less lovers That come in breezily And ebb out eagerly. We breathe rapaciously We dream hopelessly Of times that will last But O hasty future, So soon you’re past. Wait till I wake up Stay till I feel Read what I’ve written And answer my appeal