NEEDLING

Passed the midnight hour not even knowing it. Hourly seconds gone by the clock around hands shaking fat fingers and fat gold rings with fat diamonds on short stubby fingers. The greasy kinds, the kinds which own you and say one thing shaking on it, and then do something totally different knowing it doesn’t matter one bit cause they’ve got the dough and in the end they decide. Something usually slimy and oily. You’re not pleased and it doesn’t matter. Makes not even an iota of a difference in the whole scheme of things what you think. You’re the hourly wage under-paid bill-owing needing over-time but ain’t allowed to take it Joe. You’re the life-line of the company scared cause it don’t take two brain cells to do your job and you gotta pay rent and you owe loads on your credit card. You’re the life-line of the company without you they don’t make a dime. You’re the one who plows the fields short-sighted, blinders on. They own you. But without you they’re nothing, that’s what you can’t get into your brain. You’re the mass. Together you own THEM, if only you weren’t so scared. Passed midnight hour not even knowing what to do with myself. Gotta pull a double shift tomorrow.