An Idle Mind Is the Devil’s Workshop

An idle mind is the devil’s workshop. Into the idiots: neurosis.

Staring out into nothing in particular, just forward, ruminating.

The iPhone, now only a nifty gizmo that acts as both a watch and a flashlight, AT THE SAME DAMN TIME!, reads on an algorithm-rainbow perpendicularly broken bellied “technical difficulties“ split screen, 11:28 PM.

What an odd hour. Oblivion must be blank.

A plane, absolute in its absence of sense or structure.

Could anything, plotting or otherwise, exist in such a space?

Staring out into nothing thinking- thinking of when an old face with all too familiar features said, “none of this really matters anyways,” and of the silence thereafter.

The nothing in particular moves, the gaze does not.

Blink. *blink* Blinking but not looking away from nowhere — a train could not exist in oblivion, nor could one of thought.

How wound one track time in such a space?

Smiling, eyes still locked.

That must be an anomaly — a dry joke on overseas or under aged ears.

Blink *blink*

Looking around still thinking — eyes baggie and tired

Stretching my lips and tongue and larynx and lungs into sounds and symbols.

Declaring, “it’s just a dry joke, a terrifying possibility of anything and everything all at once. But right now, it is 12:15 AM.”