Blank-Mart ... a monologue

The snuffed match trails its ghostly path,
leaving behind the lurid scent of sulfur and old birthday candles.

The first drag of the morning cigarette soothes my thoughts;
perhaps it's the knowledge that, at the very least, it's one part of my life I can control.

I imbibe the first pungent puff with resentful zeal,
knowing the controlled chaos that lies, waiting, in my near future.

The voices, the clatter, the bags, and the cash;
the retail purgatory that has become my life.

Like a man on death row, I am uniformed and numbered;
painfully awaiting the deadening moment I pass through the doors.

The soulless monotony of my occupation
leaves a cynical outlook in my eyes,
and the taste of death in my mouth;
coffee and cigarettes, caffeine and hydrogen cyanide
.....Retail smile.


-J.Hewitt