Dead man walking

he is in so much pain
that his world
is under general anaesthetic

every morning
the bitter and stale black coffee
barely jumpstarts his heartbeat

every commute to work
is like driving in
a sound proof booth
traffic moves like tropical fish
in a tank

every human interaction he has
resembles Pecking opera
too loud
too strenuous
too much makeup plastered on

he is so exhausted
that the night
becomes the tomb
where he finally
lays to rest