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So it seems that I am becoming so super awesome at scratching out shit haiku on my lunch break, here is some poetry I wrote last week (which was an especially bad work week).
Oh work, why must you
demand so much from me and
from my little life?
Sometimes I try to
tunnel out, below my desk;
with little success.
Today I hid up
above the ceiling tiles,
but I got hungry.
At lunch I tried to
flee, but my conscience stopped me;
also, I am broke.
So back I slunk to
my desk and my sad spreadsheets.
I drank cold coffee.
.
.
.
.
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