When His Dream Non-Stop Flight Ran Out Of Gas

 

My boss was a visionary pessimist

always imagined hope to come that would always die,

so he planned our work routine

in keeping with his dementia.

 

Sent us out during rush hour

to try and collect supplies as quick as possible,

totally aware the gridlock gnomes

ruled the concrete during those moments

and nothing moved faster than a slug.

 

Always followed a plan

made from thoughts he randomly organized,

it was a collage of incoherent data,

which nobody could possibly understand.

 

Having tried to give it credibility

by using original copies

of notes he had destroyed

as his idea of security.

 

When all his antics failed to get results

you could see the panic in his eyes,

immediately he ordered us all to put in extra hours,

defining us a paid volunteers for that time

so we could prove our loyalty

without it costing any extra money.

 

Then adding to our joy

sending us home with more things to do,

calling it a paid vacation

by his Scrooge view of fair.

 

But the days wore thin on his brain

all that bent thinking leaving him

clearly confused,

babbling his instructions

uncaring they lacked any reason.

 

Eventually his dreaming ambitions came to a halt

that he thought would fly forever

after he suffered a nervous breakdown

with his mind found missing.