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
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