Pangs of Loneliness At the Grande Elevator Company

The city doesn’t need any elevators Or escalators or anything to push people up There are no clouds in this brightened city no bourgeoisie emancipation, no atypical beauty silicon bosoms out on the overstretched skies mechanical tirades of the undiluted selves the cubicles at Grande elevators are full of lowered shallow spaces of begotten lies should the company now start manufacturing soaps? or narcissistic pleasures of the condescending physical realm and illegal sex tapes with real orgasms? But would any of these have any upsurge On the emotionless lonely workers who have thrown people up all this while keeping a low profile in this profane job the crowded elevators do not inspire any orgy or clichéd electricity failure induced seductions there are just too many of them (not the orgies!!) the office of Grande, meaning big and great and great as desolate is densely illuminated with the low intensity money saver bulbs waiting to die their organic death as they are un-switchable the products, by the way, are now “auto maintained” the elevator which doesn't work well changes itself the one which is an escapist shoots itself up, beyond the last floor, turning into precarious ash the loneliness in the office, which is on the ground floor is only equal to a fugitive bird without a pinch of shelter in this extended, tall, gyrating and syrupy city