Back-to-back meetings
days devoured by schedules
Hours reduced to mere boxes
on a coloured sheet
Weeks cloaked into rows
months crammed in columns un-giving
Tiny boxes, bright colours
pink, purple or green
a small grey somewhere, left unfilled,
fettering me to my aspirations unheaved
Plans packed in
the limited hours of week
when I'm to be someone else
All the time spent
in schools and colleges
A hope at learning
to excel at life
turned into a mere preparation
to squeeze life into an excel sheet
No room to read a travelogue
of someone who refused
to be thus excel-led
No window to write
what the heart yearns
leaping page to page
No appetite left to sip poetry
between morsels of mundane
force-fed
winding weeks
unwound weekends
And I wait
past the power of points
beyond the ambit of routine
to arrange one meeting with myself
before the illusion of retirement
comes crashing
Just the way the hoax of career
managed to fool me
to expend life
at the altar of surviving
glorified to no limits
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