The gears work in over drive.
Thoughts leap and bound.
Procrastination lurks at the door.
Knuckles crack a thin weak symphony.
Fans beat wind against stale air.
The pipe, hues of blue and black, sits like Sherlock.
A can is left on the table, the label claims calorie, carbs and sugar free.
A 5th of Jack Daniel’s sits on the table, a 5th of a 5th left for consumption.
The world becomes fractitle and spacious.
She says I am callow, shallow, twisted and I never met a woman who wasn’t right.
The ears are def from the lack of sound and noisier thoughts.
The cellphone strobes out a green light heart beat, signals from communication.
I become a hermit doomed to live in this terrarium.