one last breath then the heart stops. see i die monday mornings around six o'clock. suffocated with neckties and stuffy office "good mornings" bury me with my briefcase at my side. where is the quality of life we were promised? time spent with nothing to show. calling in sick days just to feel healthy. to prove to myself that i still can. the suit, the work, the tie, the job. it owns you. daddy taught me his work ethic. be up at sunrise to bask in sunny traffic. learned the game away at school. spit at the ones who did it naturally. buy, sell. supply, demand. tick, fuckin' tock. soft talk around the watercooler only distracts me from the thought that i should just run. but come monday morning i know i done best not try a running.