XV

 XV

The cubicle is where dreams go to die
In coffins the size of four by four
Where the brightest brains begin to rot
And screens then swallow them whole

It's where you trade your hours for paper
That's worth less every year
Where all your life is measured in titles
And promotions but nobody cares. 

Full-time, night-shift, on-call, support, 
The details of drudgery galore
The life you envisioned will drift away
And with it all that you adore

You tell yourself it's honest work
And seek meaning elsewhere, sublime.
And as you die the corporation will crush
Your memory in the remnants of time.