Workaholic 

 Left his desk in an 

Obsessive compulsive 

Disorderly order 

Hoarding post-its and file folders 

Punched his timecard 

Overtime 

Time and time again 

His wristwatch in sync 

With the company clock 

 And his footsteps 

 As they tick-tock 

 His life 

 His salary 

 Away 

 The capitalist 

 Ventriloquist 

 Twists him round and round 

 Neither lost nor found 

 Just chained to the ground 

 And coerced 

 Into the cubicle life 

 Without a wife 

 Or even the normal daily strife 

 Of trying to be different 

 And independent 

 Of codependence 

 He is needing 

 Almost nothing

 Hardly sleeping 

 Never talking 

 Only truly dreading 

 His hard-earned death 

 (This is a piece of flash fiction with exactly one hundred words called a drabble.)