Under the dearth of a rolled out newpaper at my doorstep,
With lines that upheavel my pyred emotions,
Riots, suicides, downtroden economy and a glorified page 3,
Ah! what a platter of contemplation for my senses,
My morning tea couldnt have tasted better,
Musings of my mind along with the bombardment of information
That stales my already cluttered brain,
which chats itself in front of my slow processing dumbfuck laptop
Ignition blast of my mind...
and I return home through a well defined keyhole,
I instruct my pillow to sleep,
and my vector charges itself,
through a dust-laden plugpoint,
Closed eyes draw some red grunge circles,
ring tone rings,
and a splatter of to-do list for tomorrow springs up,
I laugh at myself and appraise my strong organizational skills
I shut my eyes,
visualize the amount I punch in at the ATM,
Its late- 2.00 pm!
A breathe in concentric circles evapourates in the air,
My pillow has one more sleepless night,
Hobson's choice - I have taken it!