Work-anomaly

Fingers twist, bruise my lips
Perusing the ambivalent flat screen
That watches me day in, day out, day in, day out
Gloating over my indecision
Goading me to action
Derision etched on the Off button

Beside it
The phone line, my life line
Is more idle that I'd prefer these days
See, these days I'm more the solitary man
Scanning the horizon
For snippets of bread

While the wolves circle
Their shiny molars glinting off my tea cup
Horizons ever shrinking, squashing my goolies
Erstwhile the boss's beady eyes sweat
Focussing down the gun barrel
Fingers run across his mirrored mahogany desk
Playing a false falsetto
Me, a key out of tune he wants to pluck
Hovering above like a seagull at the rubbish dump

Inspiration strikes me like a sweet smelling mothball from my wardrobe
Pleasant almost but bites the nose
I pick up the phone
Suck feverously at a life saver
That beady eyed prick at the window smiles
See, the wolves at his door are howling too