Ancient brain case rests upon my workspace,
no one remembers, ""Alas, poor Yorick!"
contrary to opinion, this ace face,
in all his glory, does not simply grace
emptiness palpable upon my desk,
no, his grim skull smirks upon my workspace,
this empty stand once held an ancient vase.
To imagine his mouth chatters, click-click,
whimsical to watch the teeth on his face,
if I could choose something to take his place,
see me in hell should I win a quick pick,
the lottery I won with my workspace,
enter my office, you feel no disgrace,
despite proof of the carrot and the stick.
Kama, an ancient longing, may deface
all my ancient twisted karma, to trace
relations back to this man is the trick,
my studies led me here to meet his face,
all stripped of flesh and brain at my workspace.
No comments:
Post a Comment