anna kiss







it seems to me that,

while I am confined

to my iced-over cube

and the coffee cannot warm the fingers,

that something

seismically significant

is draining from me,

my life is being eaten by the electrical wires of

my mainframe terminal

the wires,

the words spent by hands,

the binary code defeating me,

the evil bitch who sits next to me,

together form a powerful alliance

that will ultimately in Vesuvian-style bury me,

my form will be impressed in wire framing

I will decay there and leave a hollow of me,

And WORK will have destroyed me

work will have killed me and

preserved the outer layer like some Pompeian form

eaten alive by the earth,

drowned in the soot of work,

and in the incessant buzzing of the machine,

in the paperless dead world

covered in volcanic ash,

in the funerary compound

of the corporate American landscape.

Two guardian figures from middle management

will stand by the gate

to the labyrinth of cubicles,

that mousetrap,


to deliver upon the archaeologists of the 23rd century,

the curse of the disgruntled employee.












everything here copyright anna kiss