Cattle Class


I travel to work every morning in cattle class.

Packed to standing room, it’s tighter than a tin of spam.

Narky bodies, cheek to jowl, it’s a gruesome start to the morning.

A conveyor belt of interchangeable bodies, endentured to the mass production of white collar products or ideas.

There’s got to be more to existence than this.

What do we have to show for it? Enough money to pay the rent, eat and buy the latest mass-produced gadget?

No one talks, they just data entry into the latest digital device that’s come their way.

I question the health of it all.

No wonder the city breeds western diseases.

As a queer, I grew up wanting a life that transcends the stereotypical rigours of nine to five.

I want more than just a direct payment to survive in a world that stresses me.

If you say that’s life, then I say it’s just a life. Surely there are many more. Of course there are.

Being gay is more than fitting into restraints imposed by a system.

Otherwise the lessons of being a minority are wasted.

Is a large chunk of our community currently asleep, aspiring to what prior generations fought against?

I say yes. And it’s all for what? Materialism we can’t take with us.

Acceptance is often a pill that sends us to sleep.