two weeks' notice

i came here for an opportunity fleeting 
and discovered it to be a mirage.
while i've been grateful to learn and succeed (mildly, so to speak) for this company
it is time to go.

my last day is two weeks from today.

i don't care where my next job will be or how much it pays, 
but i'll be happier than i am now.
i like the idea of a steady paycheck
i hate the reality of little, if any advancement

there are guys who haven't had raises in two, three, four, or more years. 
i say bs.
we're supposedly essential, invaluable men and women?
riiiiiiiiiight.
i feel more like a department of corrections inmate than any free man.

no lunch, another night in the swamp.
worse, no semblance of relief. 
can't catch a break around here.
thank God i have a strong, empty bladder.
i might've peed my pants otherwise. 

i am a control specialist with limited control.
i am limited by time
i am limited by finances
i am limited by sapped energy
i am limited by an unreliable walkie whose speakers sound incoherent
i am limited by a spouse who has stopped dreaming
i am limited by rednecks in management who would rather see me lift seventy pound drums than to use my mind creating, updating, and maintaining databases
i am limited by small town southereners who look at skin before knowledge, ambition, talent, work ethic.

my last day is two weeks from today.

if i wouldn't go to the pen for it, i'd probably sell dope again
but there are too many risks for in that
i'd lose property, my teaching license, my family,
     and the list goes on and on
my job has made me expendable
why would i stay where i'm not wanted?
maybe i like getting slapped around and called susan
but that feels like high school all over again.

the damn rubberband on my right wrist is supposed to keep me grounded,
not ground my career/life prospects.
where did i go wrong?

my last day is two weeks from today.

who knows what the future may have in store for me?
who knows why i've spent 34 years chasing knowledge
to learn that i am still a fool?
who knows, i may even go postal.

i kinda needed a beer yesterday,
i wish my wife would understand why i work so much
i wonder if God has a do-over button for my life
i'm pretty sure none of you really care
i know i won't be missed when i'm gone.
i can be easily replaced.

my last day is two weeks from today.

i can't kill myself yet.
i haven't been insured long enough for the policy to go to my wife.
i'll look at it again in the morning
something about a suicide clause, darn it
a limited life isn't worth living, so i might as well stop living.
all i do is work, sleep, and shower. 

i wanna go home.
i don't belong here, and home isn't what it used to be.
i spent all of my time trying to move up, 
do better than my parents, 
be a decent provider for my wife (and eventual unborn), 
and this is my reward?
eff that.

i've been on the outer fringes of life. 
tell me if this residency is real, or if you're pulling my chain
the whippings no longer sting
my bottom has been numbed by the pain associated with failure.
the emotions are devoid, dulled by monotony
something's gotta give, but i've told myself that lie before. 

my last day is two weeks from today.