I’m not settling in
Well at this new
Job, I’m not sure
It’s right for me.
The cubicle is far
Too cramped and
There are tanks
Of water in every
Corner. It’s unsafe.
Worst of all are the
Sounds of my new
Colleagues tap tap
Tapping on their
Desks. Don’t they
Appreciate how
Easily they drift
Into a rhythm?
And I haven’t even
Mentioned those
Things around their
Heads and pressed
Deep into their ears,
All quietly pulsing
With a pounding,
Relentless beat.
Are they taunting
Me? A ritual haze
Of the new-start?
Whatever, it takes
All of my resolve
Not to slide across
The smooth floor,
Opening my maw
To consume them
Wholly complete.
Although I imagine
Eating my colleagues
Would be a sackable
Offence, as time goes
On, I don’t think I care.
Ross Crawford is a writer/scriever based in Stirling, Scotland. He mostly takes his inspiration from the history and nature of Scotland, but also remains forever fascinated by world mythology. He writes in Scots, English, and Gàidhlig. You can find him on Twitter at @RRMCrawford