Bathe, baby, bathe
When invisible walls are closing in
Can you part the stench curtains
And stick your nose outside
Hoping to drink in some fresh air?
How do you crawl
Out of the dark chocking depth
Of an office cubicle
Turned stinky dungeon?
Where can you hide
From these territorial claws
Of co-worker’s odour
Reaching with anti-perfume hugs
Of sweat-buttered,
Armpit-hairy,
Crotch-suffocated,
mouldy-toed,
Unwashed body?
*This is the short version of a very eloquent rant I have bottled up since last week. I'm about to report to work in a space suit. How do you handle?
Bongo-bound
2 days ago
9 comments:
Soookie-nteyafas!
Let's have the long version. With names.
How do you handle? You detach yourself from the whole experience...
Seriously though, this poem is disturbing.
If it weren't for the cubicle bit I'd say you work in a mine. lol.
ROTFLMAO! I've lolled your zibs!
label them, mark them, eloquently.
Funny.
Bambi...many would die to be in your position.
Jus be thankful.
@baz, you know how delicate situations like these are. Suffer in silence.
@SK, it sure feels like a stopped up mine
@Pete's mama, one day ti will be you
@31337, maybe with an ink gun so others will know to avoid them
@nev, many would DIE, yes. At the very thought of it they would drop dead.
I once worked in such an environment and had to resign on health grounds after I developed some serious respiratory issues.
@forko, surely you exaggerate?
suffocated-crotches..ouch!
great pissexpression...give us the other piece.
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