Felt-fenced
faux-wood cells
segregated soldiers
in your
halogen oven

relentless banks of
Leering
Corporate
Debauchees
pasteurising
your probity

we don’t need to
bleed you
it’ll disappear
soon enough and of
its own accord

it’s a cyst you know
a phase
a cycle you’re at the end of
your last jump
from the swings

you’ll find it easier
when it’s gone
numbers are simpler
than words
let them dictate your life