Deadlines
To the clicking of keys
and the grinding of teeth--
The air is hot with frustration
Heavy with uncertainty, drooping...
I see the clouds just below the ceiling
Hanging, dark and low in the room
More ominous than the mood
I know they aren't real.
But I can't make this disappear,
Immovable fortresses
Powered by the human life force...
They linger
until all energy has vanished
And we droop, like parting clouds
Still, in the presence of thick anxiety.
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