Office Spaced

Holes in the ceiling tiles
stare down at me,
blank, zoned out,
gape open at
my utter lack of
mental oxygen
today
tomorrow
whenever....

myopically gulping for
any last tasty tidbits
clinging to the surface
before, during, and
after hours.
Unheard of. Absurd. 
Irrelevant to my
frame of mind.
Fluorescently buzzed,
numbing thumb-tacked memos
to my forehead--

What was it you said?
You did say something, didn’t you?
Or are mine the only lips I hear moving?
Hmmm….

Written November 17, 2010 by
Eliza Jane Farley Gomez
©2010 by Eliza Jane Farley Gomez

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OK, y'all have been kind enough to "hear me out"& n stuff, so let me know whatcha think, if I've rattled yer cage, voiced a shared thought or concern, or if you're gonna attain Enlightenment upon reading these DEEP THOUGHTS, or if ya think I'm just plumb WACKO--but please be decent in your expression of your sentiments, there's no need to sling mud, unless we're in POTTERY CLASS or at the BEACH! Thanks for reading n stuff...Laters!

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