Ice
Graciously
Employing our lives
In the harsh subroutines
Of slavery
Ensuing death from stress
And all your problems
Is only so much
Pins and needles
Scurry into the rat race at the sound of an alarm clock
Field of an operative vacuum
Comforted by the permanence
Of unending crucifixion
Mothballed refugees
Of a discarded life
Plucking raw nerves
In a smoke screen.