Waiting rooms with gray walls and spotted brown carpet,
Scattered with crying babies and outdated magazine stands
Tideous clickings of pens on clipboards writing in medical histories

Everyone is waiting on something here
and for the first time, I don't feel sick in the lobby

Smooth words with hungry conversation stay my new elixir
While the impulses in my brain dispell
and the world dwindles into states of impertinence

Who knew good company could soothe the cure for a neuromaniac