Sickly sweet droplets of immortalization
Dance onto the tongues of hunched beings
As the lines segregating days and weeks
Start to melt off calendars with the rising of the heat
Breathing life
Into the souls bound by deadlines
Bitten into paper so hard that it scares the paper underneath
By the claustrophobic square footage of
a cubical
Imprisoning its victims
Chained down by the drowning repetitive
Daily screech of an alarm clock that sets
in motion
The same song and dance
One is set free
Sucking hungrily from the breast of summer
Until our stomachs turn bloated and
our tongues
Hang lackadaisically from our mouths
Only then do our fingers start to twitch
With the shortening of our sunlight
To slowly and relentlessly
Peel off and shed our glowing skins
To return to our screeching alarm clocks
And to our calendars
From which days and weeks are restrained
By its strict columns and rows