Workaholic

Left his desk in an
Obsessive compulsive
Disorderly order
Hoarding post-its
And file folders
Punched his timecard
Overtime
Time and time again
His wristwatch in sync
With the company clock
And his footsteps
As they tick-tock
His life
His salary
Away
The capitalist
Ventriloquist
Twists him round and round
Neither lost nor found
Just chained to the ground
And coerced
Into the cubicle life
Without a wife
Or even the normal daily strife
Of trying to be different
And independent
Of codependence
He is needing
Almost nothing
Hardly sleeping
Never talking
Only truly dreading
His hard-earned death