The sombre tint of the office lights,
In the endless corridor filled with void,
Dimmed in the fading twilight.
The surging throngs of faceless workers toiling in the cold metropolis.
The ceaseless stream of leather cases marching down the gloomy stairways.
Towards the concrete sidewalks.
Joining the streaming bus queues.
Into the swarming subways.
Making their steadfast journey
To nowhere.
Squashed among the bodies screaming for space.
Surrounded by eyes intent on indifference.
How did I get caught in this sterile wasteland of clockwork machinery?
Why has my blood stop pumping in the hours from nine to five?
Why are the marks for the holidays so prominent on my calendar?
Why do I hear the murmur of the golf clubs beckoning from behind the door?
Why has the tiresome flashes of T.V. imagery turned so alluring suddenly?
Enclosed by the mindless mesh of administrative chains
With the scrambled labyrinth of shackles and restraints.
As the encroaching walls constricting my being
Like a tightening noose around my neck
And a twisted tangle over my wrist.
Impeding my motion.
Stifling my breath.
Suffocation.
Hopelessness.
When did my feet stop prancing as I walked by the streets filled with carnival?
When did I stop hearing the melodies weaving through the manhattan?
Why is the air so dreary that scenes flicker in static monochrome?
What is this murky mist that have descended to mute my mind, to shroud my eyes?
When did I turn blind?
How did I go deaf?
When did I die?
If I leave, where will I go?
If I stay, what can I do?
If I leap, will I fall?
If I wait, will I survive?
Questions upon questions, piled in confusion.
Layer upon layer, stretched to the distant futile morbid end to this birth.
Where is the finishing line?
© 1998 H.L. Hiew. All Rights Reserved.