The Persistence of Feeling

How amazing that I touch 58 buttons to form this sentence.
More amazing that I subconsciously chose this number correctly.
Only to validate myself with precisely 58 touches to the →.
Wonderment defiled by cold, surgical knowledge.
Time wasted in the name of preserving my schizophrenic Ego.

There are lots of big buzzwords I learned to say at my job
so the people in charge would believe what I think:
expectations. quantifiable. statistically. initiative. metrics.
along with:
alignment, momentum, camaraderie (though some prefer synergy).
Ultimately, it is numbers that speak louder than words.
More than a thousand pictures...unless they're stacked bar charts.
Oh, and accountability.

I ramble on with a Pavlovian fear of the after-hours on-call
cellular device—weighing heavily, capital ventures over personal.
Incessant boredom with the mediocrity of pre-middle management.
While a safari of ideas persist nestled in the shadowy crevasses
of my mind; Untapp'd in lieu of redirected professional optimism.
Caught up in The Game, climbing a Sisyphusian ladder evermore.

The 2/7 compromise weekend salvation freedom preserves my sanity so,
as I yank down the marionette and repurpose her strings to floss out my thoughts.
A bloody act of fine-tuning my mental health.
Dentists and psychiatrists implore the same wisdom—
that time can be found any day to strengthen this tissue
and ensure the persistence of feeling.