I entered a very strange room.
in the centre of a booming uptown
of urban area of a very unimportant capital of
province.
blistering secretly in the downside of my otherwise
empty mind,
situated quite offhand off handful of handy thoughts.
It looks like a bar in here.
Glasses of abstraction extracted from a 100%
concentrate of unconcentrated thoughts
are standing on a
timetable of bored man's tiresome schedule
and around are sitting Emily Dickinson altogether with
Parkinson, Willkinson, Watson
and Emerson,
altogether disputing about Jeffersonian insomnia
syndrome
palindromised by symptoms of elitarian totality of
chrysanthemicissm.
A little startled decided I to end my medication,
switching to meditation
and giving a brief description of one-thousand-worded
explanation of the zero f**ks I
give about my
prescription,
I finally began to see order of things
as they pass me by like trams running over pedestrian
crossings
in the uptown mess of my almost empty mind.
David Stringbreaker
