Upon this desk, I lean,
staring at this screen,
from it nothing, do I glean,
I don't know what it means.

I hit the coffee for caffeine,
but this doesn't stop the dream,
my mind is a machine,
stuck in a routine.

Perhaps I need some epinephrine,
to get my thoughts hot like acetylene,
lubricate them with vaseline,
start them jumping on a trampoline.