R.U. O.k.?

“Are you OK?” chipmunk face asks, donut coffee offerings in hand. The heck are you? Annual RUOk day, yellow clad ritual tokenism.

Ask one inane question. Accept only one answer. Hear nothing.

Am I Ok?

You don’t know?

Can’t you feel?

Work, here, no-one says jack. Chained to desk and screen invisible corporate battery hen. Hidden tears. Shoulders slumped. Desolate isolation. Mute. Emasculated. Disengage, he’s no ‘team player’, no positivity, introvert, Tony Robbins failure.

Home’s an empty flat, fridge, tv. Fakebook falsies. Pinterest pretence. Termite ridden soul. Polished flesh.

Noviciate misanthrope.

“Yes, awesome, thanks!” offerings accepted.

Is your conscience salved?


Thanks for reading my story. I’m really keen to get your feedback and to know if you liked what you read. Please leave a quick comment if you could.

Cheers, Ish


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