Advanced Engineering Poem by Artchil Daug

Three elevators got stuck
the day I opened my father's life
to the eyes of Matroska dolls:
a businessman was trapped, helpless,
in the sixtieth floor, where
the commodities of living transformed
him to a bug, Kafka's bug, not unlike
the common bloke, caught between
the presidential suite and
the anthill somewhere in the lower
sections, north of ground level,
where an addict,
lobotomized by social constraints,
was found pushing the lowest button
in the elevator panel, believing
he was on the highest floor
of the building that never even
made its way to the blueprint commission.