In a bathtub there is no space to swim-
Gills just barely wet.
Tension charges the drain, joins the filth of the day.
when the Mongrel bangs at the door, breaking the peace.

Corporations have low ceilings,
High productivity to space ratios
I can keep pretending its cozy
But when the tea runs out, we
all remember how cold it is here.

See, I am this Fish and
Climate control dries me out,
But for now the tea is warm and wet and sweet.

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