Amongst the piles of angstless papers I sit in forlorn wonderunadorned in masks of professional dreaming of funky meadowed perfume A creature in black save for the green stripes circling ankles of pleasure lacking in the piercings of a youthful dance experiencial loss and corporate humdrum unable to find pleasure in the sameness of the day A gulp of water flows A hiss of caffiene buzzes A sizzle of nicotine relieves A crunch of carrot gnaws my day is almost over only to start again tomorrow and tomorrow and the next where are the hidden treats of hibernation, the lusty pedagogical burn of passion and the wantonness of a new breath? They are there, awaiting my leave from this place, in the fresh intake of home and love and sweet smells beyond the musty burnt out dried air filled with the dead skin of those who surround me.