Chair of Thought
By spungehu
I sit, suffering at my desk Mind running loose through fields of possibilities Books left forgotten, stretched open, pouring out their knowledge Inky pen dripping permanent bruises on my papers Homework lying down, scraped and scarred in an illegible scrawl Silent pictures staring, showing times of happiness, wonder, surprise Radio softly humming, as if strolling happily through a forest Curtains open wide with smiles, showing me their wonderful world within Me, sitting in my throne, my prison, my chair of thought. Written January 22nd, 2002 © on Jan 22 2002 07:42 AM PST 18 • 0 • 13
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"I sit, suffering at my desk..."