O) Plastic Hours

These plastic hours
Of crumpled green paper,
Ticking through the restless day;
Filled with bubble gum haze
Of aches and pains;
Filled with squalls of regret
And murmurs of frustration.
 
An invisible spider
Creeps across my flesh,
Making my hands shake
And my body quiver,
As the dry air
Cracks and burns
My blistered lips.
 
The towering demon,
Whose presence precedes
A cloud of doom,
Wanders through
The cloistered rooms,
His prisoners
To survey.
 
These plastic hours
That burrow into my brain
Have left me limp,
A lifeless husk
Without a soul.
I have sacrificed myself
On the altar of stagnation,
And become a slave
To all that I despise.