WAGE SLAVE

Each day before sunrise I squeeze on board the packed metal tube with all the other workers.

And, each day, I notice that everybody on the train is sick.

They cough and sneeze whilst complaining about how tired they are.

I watch as they gulp down bitter coffee in quiet desperation, hoping it'll numb the pain of their existence.

My commute takes more than an hour.

Then, like a battery hen, I sit obediently inside my cage.

At midday I’m afforded exactly 1 hour to eat a meal of my choosing.

Although most days I end up eating the same thing: fake meat and rice in a plastic box.

But the illusion of choice gives me comfort.

I arrive home after dark.

As does my wife.

We eat fast food with the kids in front of TV.

We don’t really talk to each other.

I wonder what my children learn about in school?

I decide to ask and my 8 year old daughter says she has to write about her sexual fantasies for her teacher, Mx Eminence.

I’m so exhausted that it doesn’t even occur to me that this might be inappropriate.

In bed, my wife tells me she needs to increase our credit card limit to pay the power bill.

I try not to think about the fact that my wage increases are outpaced by inflation.

I want to sleep but I'm kept awake by this ever-present sense of dread that refuses to abate.

Eventually I remember that the doctor prescribed me something for this feeling.

So I take the pill and that numbs me just enough to pass out.

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