Memoirs of Jobseeker 328509b

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I awake drowning in the landfill of first light,
each day gets heavier as I try to carry them quietly but fail.
Yesterday I stared at an application form and two hours passed,
I’d written a statement of who they want me to be and guess I drifted away.

What makes a grown man curl up like a foetus
is when he’s reborn from the cunt of a job centres door and given a place to die.
What makes a grown man get smaller each day
is when yawning boys at agencies roll apps and eyes at disappearing people.

I want to report my tragic disappearance –
it happened again this morning when my wife wept in secret to protect me.
Every morning she puts on a brave face and feeds the black dog and elephant.
Her body aches from work and dragging the iron chains of her shadow slave.

The truth of unemployment is the greatest lie you believed –
a chav with eight children from ten different Mothers can be possible,
the migrant who robbed that job and food from an Englishman’s mouth.
No, the truth of unemployment is how quick it eats a person’s mind.

The truth of unemployment is the sea of ash the lost awake in.
Some feel the only thing they can control is not life but the other,
like that bloke from Sunderland who Dave98 shared on twitter,
and that woman outside Poundland at the end of her tether,
telling me her life meant nothing, that she felt, like nothing,
that she was nothing, and how she could find nothing.

I had to do something,
and tell you.

 

Antony R Owen

 

 

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