capitalism riptide

wake up to the flood
rush of water in my ears, mouth

whoever invented email
should face the plank walk

the whoosh of papers
collapsing on my desk
like the crash of
tsunami tides

taking a vacation
just holds the work
for a future day

clog in the drain
and I might drown
but no one is listening
so will I make a sound?

or will my final breaths
be overwhelmed by
notification bells,
buoys tolling a distance
to shore that none of us
will tread, no matter
how shallow the swell?

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