The clock reads 5 and he packs his things and turns off his desktop,
signifying the end of the week.
Without a word he walks to his car in the corner of the garage, opens the door and sits with a sigh.

He turns on the car and a CD enters the slot,
rolling up his sleeves reveals colorfully inked arms-
portraying two murals of life that snake up to his shoulders

Lighting a joint, he takes a hit
as the music rolls over him like a wave,
encompassing his body and clearing his mind.

Pulling onto the road he imagines his coworkers seeing him now;
tattooed arm holding a joint outside the car and music pouring out the window.
The thought makes him smile, then laugh.

He speeds away, leaving the chains on his soul behind;
never thinking twice about how his soul will be bounded again,
When he returns to reality.