Whiteboards all smeared with illegible scrawl,
Bureaucrats’ barcodes on each jaundiced wall
Décor is dismal, lights on the blink; no cups
in the cooler, nothing to drink.
Dolores on desk, with her script on repeat:
“Reception K2? That’s over the street.”
Winter re-enters with each shivering soul.
“Take a seat and a ticket; I’ll put you
on hold”. Her voice is robotic, her patience
sublime—She’s answered the same since 2009
The punters are silent their eyes to the floor
each clutching their papers - 1984
So roll up your sleeve, put a vein on display,
It’s not going to hurt, just a scratch as they say
The needle’s the point at the end of the line
You’ll get the results when the data is mined
Just trust in the system, you'll hear soon enough
Its time to move on when your number is up
Love "winter re-enters with each shivering soul" Feels a tad dystopian.
At least the needles are a lot smaller now thanthey were back in the day😅