routines are the slave master of contemporary times. confined daily to a schedule we must adhere to simply to survive in this corporate ran concrete jungle. office politics along with office poli-tricks, slacks and collars around our necks, no ball and chain around our feet, instead our souls are shackled. 40 hours a week we chase their dreams while ours lay in slumber. daydreams of random escapades pave routes for my minds escape vicariously living through my mindscape. i sit and stare in front of my electronic window with no walls downloading with envy the next mans adventure, things i would rather do with my office tenure. searching for the working class cure, one must remember those who shall conquer must endure.
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