The cubicle welcomes you
come now sit, go through your e-mails
do your work proudly.
No! Don’t let your eyes wander outside,
it is just a beautiful tree in wind,
just a pond with ripples of water ,
There are no shapes out of them that you can imagine.
There are no memories in their shadows.
This silence ain’t whispering you to write.
Close the notepad.
Just don’t write a new poem again.
Don’t be maniacal.
You need caffeine,
to drift away from your thoughts.
Just fuck them, right?
You gotta work now.
Just don’t search now on the web,
How Hemingway blew his head,
How Sylvia path asphyxiated herself while
her children were asleep,
How Fitzgerald’s heart betrayed him,
How Kerouac died of cirrhosis,
How that old lazy fat fuck Bukowski
told you once to go all the way
otherwise don’t even try.
You are not one of them,
You shall not be one of them.
you are drinking your chaos within,
they all gave in,
they couldn’t drink it.
but you are drowning it in caffeine
and shitting out tons of work.
you shall survive.
if you want to.
But I know you won’t.
I can see it in your eyes,
so go on write then
as you always have.
Make it worth it.
Don’t drink the chaos within