Ongoing sporadic journal of the overeducated, and underemployed. The title derived from Coupland’s description of cubicle land; the corporate ghetto. Random photos and thoughts. Left the ghetto, never happier. This still a work in progress
lost and found-27.01.25
I never knew anyone else could speak my language till I met you
Oh, the sublime narcotic that is love
The conceit
finding
me self
losing
me self
in you
As you’re
Walking out the door
Just like 1,000 others before
Thanks for the illusion
I’ll tuck into me ruck
I’ll save it
cold rainy winter night
Open it and let the illusion
Warm us
And keep
Searching
For
A thing I cannot name
Visions of Mary Magdalene,
Mata Hari &
Cleopatra
Ongoing sporadic journal of the overeducated, and underemployed. The title derived from Coupland’s description of cubicle land; the corporate ghetto. Random photos and thoughts. Left the ghetto, never happier. This still a work in progress
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