9 to 5

It was 5 o clock
He had lived this day a thousand times before
In his office that was grey enough to tempt migraines
And his sensible suit of which he had 4 others
His secretary, a plain woman, just asked if he wanted a drink
He declined.
He had just put laxatives into the water dispenser
How soon was it until he brought a gun to work?

He calmly walked out of his voluntary incarceration
His mind derelict after one too many progress meeting
Too many directive seminars and motivational weekends
His colleagues painted on smiles saying goodbye
He wasn’t in the mood for facades

The station throbbed with the life he needed
And as the train swept through, the air made him feel alive
For maybe the first time

He suspected his son used drugs
He was almost sure his daughter was pregnant
He knew his wife was having an affair
And he walked home passed them to the bathroom cupboard

Tomorrow his manager’s wife would receive the pictures he sent her
Of her husband and secretary
Tomorrow his wife’s lover would receive a thank you note
And the company would get a terror threat in the post, for his unrewarded toil.

But for now the pills dropped like bombs into his hand.