Paid To Sit Here Like An Automaton

If we don’t reach lunch soon I’ll explode,
sitting here is like waiting for my doom to
take my soul in a firm embrace, Grieg in
my ears and my courage to wander on
through the repetitive landscape of uniform
documents falling to below zero, I know
I’m paid to sit here like an automaton just
typing away, but the release of freedom is
beckoning beyond the open-plan chicken-
coop door, each time my colleague delivers
a speech in a well-modulated voice and I
have no choice but listen to every well-
enunciated word, I feel like bursting into
self-righteous flames, no escape is offered
by playing on the Internet, my favourite site
refuses to appear, I’d better change my
mental gear and try to clear the obstacle
offered by this long, slow morning, why
should life be punctuated by such boring
periods such as these, please, Lady Time,
please bring me release from this confined
space at my squatter camp work station!