Holding Pattern

Outsourced, this charleyhorse attacks
me at 2 a.m. Impossible to find
my way back again now...

And in the middle there's
no happy medium to be found
between rage and futility,
indignity and despair.
No rant can fix this.

How dare they -
having found it absolutely
necessary to do this
to us. How could they
forget what this means
to us, their pawns in
a game of chess, checkmate
and loss, with it comes
hollow victory. At this
point, one can only hope
to the bitter end.

The longer the wait,
can you even wonder how
much mutiny could take
place with no one left
to mute...
Silence! The air grows
louder, stronger, more
stagnant with each unspoken
grievance, the clock is
ticking

as we drop, one by one
like dinosaur flies
facing extinction.
The facade of this structure
has crumbled already, all
the money saved won't fix
this mess, you are already
scheduled for the
wrecking ball.