The red digits from somewhere behind taunt stoically,
Their cold light dancing before the eyes which refuse to abjure
A desolation of memories - each spawned in boredom or fascination
Each painted with equal abandon. As the stench of condensed data
Flings picadores at an absent mind, obligation rebels,
Crying duty! order! reason!
I must ask -
Who ever paid obligation mind?
December 13, 2007