Sensory deprivation

It’s Monday morning, so plunge me in the tank again.

Goodbye to fun and reality, now switch on the inane.

The mirror in the bath room sucks light in, it’s insane.

The trudge to the station, the green mile, once again.

Repeated mental torture, can you sense my distain.

A period of limited sensory upload, always the same.

It is sucking the life out of me, now, am I being plain.

Five days taming the raging lion, of stroking the mane.

Obvious in commuters’ eyes, we’re all playing the game.

Only work, everyone does it, just me feeling the pain?

Loot

Makes me think that ...

Getting to work. Commenting. Work is fulfilling for some and dehumanising for others. Either way for vast numbers, and rising, getting there and getting back is nothing short of a life draining hell.

2018

Lorraine Ansell

Narrator:

This poem is narrated by Lorraine Ansell​ a British female voice over artist who is graciously supporting WorkInWords.

If you would like to make a recording of this poem, click here to find out how.

More people are writing and thinking about work-based poetry. Does this poem make you think of anything? Send your thoughts to editor@workinwords.net.

Send a poem you've written or one you like and we'll share it with other WorkInWords readers.

WorkInWords

Work dominates our lives. WorkInWords.net offers you a place to read and listen to what people think and feel about the work they do. Please send us yours with this link or email: editor@workinwords.net.

 

Our key words are: Read | Listen | Experience |

Work | Feelings | Experiences | Attitudes | Behaviour

© by WorkInWords

Proudly created with Wix.com

  • LinkedIn
  • Black SoundCloud Icon
  • Black Facebook Icon
  • Twitter
  • YouTube
  • Black Instagram Icon