trudging with vacant eyes 
through college 
or factory? 
marking time 
to the blow of a fabled whistle 
pointless learning 
for the almighty job 
leading to years, 
lifetimes 
of chasing the bitch-goddess 
money 
in the name of success 
a moving paper fantasy 
so that someday 
after decades 
of a profitable career 
we can look back 
and convince ourselves 
it was worth it. 

Some brief commentary on this poem.