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clocked in

a poem about the desolation of… thinking about a life of work forever?

By angela hepworthPublished about a year ago • Updated about a year ago • 2 min read

So it never really changes, does it?

The work life

The American dream

Perhaps it’s a universal cesspool

To wake and work and wait

This unspoken acceptance

But I hear a silent wail in the streets

Of the waiting, working people

Misery and mortgages to be paid

Moving, working bodies and tired eyes

Forty hours, fifty hours, every hour

Consumed by the lit and looming dollar

By the boss man

He pushes and pulls them all about

He jiggles them around on his fingers

He doesn’t know he’s puppeteering corpses

-

My father used to smile more

He used to lie down and breathe easy

Now he is bound to a cluttered desk

Confined to a meaningless cause

I will not see him strung up by the neck

Next to a Japanese man from the city

His own piled-up desk abandoned

Hanging from a cherry tree

-

I’m pursuing a new job

I’m finally editing an outdated resume

I’m writing my ninth cover letter this week

I’m saving it as a file

Applied

Application viewed

I was not chosen

I am not chosen


It’s not meant to be

I steel my resolve

I’m on ZipRecruiter

I’m on Word

I’m on Indeed

I’m fading

And soon I’m on DoorDash

I’m on TikTok

Wasting the rest of my hours away

I’m groaning into my hands

I’m slapping my face

I’m thinking

I don’t want to be thinking

-

Around that time

My father gets home

It’s nearly eight at night

And he left at seven this morning

-

I’m on YouTube

I check Indeed

Nothing is here for me

I’m on ChatGPT, telling it to call me names

I check ZipRecruiter

Nothing is here for me

I’m meditating

I’m showing myself grace

I’m failing

I’m gritting my teeth

I’m grabbing L-theanine

I’m chugging down a water bottle

I feel like a mistake

Like somewhere, something went wrong

I don’t want to be thinking

Right now

When I’m not earning

What I need to be

A spam call

A spam text

A fake job

Late night coffee

I’m crying in the mirror

I’m thinking

I’m spiraling

I blame myself so much

That it feels like

I’m dying

-

I’m falling asleep

And I’m waking up

Again

All too soon

-

The day is so dark it could be night still

I’m trudging myself to the door

Of my disappointment occupation

At five in the morning

I work alongside people I like

But am ashamed to be seen as

And that shame is biological

I feel my father’s eyes on me

I hear my mother’s words on repeat

I hate myself

My shame is a pit in my stomach

I just want to run away

I clock in

I clock out

I’m at the gym on the treadmill

I’m binge eating cookies all alone

I’m trying and failing

A lawless, laughable cycle

No notifications light up my phone

I didn’t even try today

I don’t want to be a saleswoman

Or a glorified secretary

But what else awaits me?

I’m lying to my coworkers

I’m smiling at my customers

I’m losing myself

Living these same days over

But I’m paralyzed

And stuck in place

-

Maybe jobs never change, not really

They just shift shapes and sizes

Buildings warping, wallets widening

Hearts hollowing out

Dreams fleeting, flying, gone

Dancing far away in the moonlit clouds

Mental HealthStream of Consciousness

About the Creator

angela hepworth

I want to erase the tears of all those who trusted in hope; I want them to be left with a smile on their faces.

-Madoka

I’m Angela! I enjoy writing fiction, poetry, reviews, dumb self-indulgent stuff, and much more. Come check me out! :p

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    Written by angela hepworth