#work is hell

I've stabbed you fourteen times

With a dry erase marker

And pushed your ergonomic chair

Down the elevator shaft of accountability.

Out loud?

"Yes, sir. Absolutely.

I'll send that over right away."

Capitalism is a hell of a leash,

And you're too fragile

To survive a sentence

With nuance.

I watch you blink like a lizard

While I explain, again,

How our job works.

How deadlines work.

How reality works.

You nod like you're

Trying on intelligence

For the first fucking time.

You take credit like it's air

And delegate like a drunk playing darts.

You think "mentoring" means

Yelling the obvious

And asking me to "smile more."

I do not respect you.

I respect the rent,

I respect the grocery bill,

I respect the fact that violence

Is frowned upon

In HR policy handbooks.

Make no mistake,

I carry your incompetence on my back

Like a corpse

I'm not legally allowed to bury.

Every "good job" you toss me

Like a dog treat

Adds another line to the speech

I will never get to give.

"Yes, sir," I say,

With a smile so fake it creaks.

In my mind,

You're on fire