Dozing in the car park with my head on the horn,
oblivious to warning signs and signals.
Alarm bells going off were simply muted by a reckless blind indifference on my part.
Burn out and fatigue were only sideshows for some other soul to face but never me.
Type A Person clinging to his desk,
pawn to an elephantine energy,
power station work station prison with anchor chains I brazenly adopted as a badge.
Internal Loch Ness monster in the driving seat,
slave driver of a barren inner quest,
electrified by beasts that fed this target-centric mind with non-stop loads,
a road hog whirlpool
life about to plummet from its peak.
It’s now I pay the price for endless hours chasing futile accolades,
the toll exacted,
collateral damage undercover of a waning moon career,
those impact craters left for untold innocents to quarry and to bear.
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