My colleagues sit like statues when checking
texts while I’m a restless attention deficit dis-
order kid, replying to emails immediately & my
work station must be tidied right now & my two
Documents colour-coded, danger lurks as my
mind weave fishnet patterns and mental laser
beams focus on childhood memories -without
relevance as you might have guessed-
If only the statue-thing would overcome me, if
I could turn into a salt pillar like Lot’s dear old
wife left behind when fleeing Sodom, as it is, I
won’t be left as I eagerly seek movement in
Any direction, any place as far away as possible
from 2 paper texts pateintly waiting for my pencil
marks indicating mistakes; OH heavens, how to escape - why did my soul choose THIS life
What purpose does it serve to be a martyr to my
documents, why can’t I be resigned to my fate
and relate to being a statue with more success –
unless chewing or drinking or swaying to some
Piece of music, I can’t gather any of the threads
weaving ideas in my head, what a useless way
to fritter life away….
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