in this day,
this age, this world we
live in
there are no weekends.
no breaks,
many stay at it, the clock
still ticking.
time running out,
more work to do today.
we slave, shackled
to the job,
we hunker down to
the screens, to the calls,
to the gods we've falsely
made.
there is no end in sight,
at least not until
the job is done, which
means never. it never
slows, never stops until
we settle down into our own
freshly dug grave.
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