Listen

My intentions are pure
But my gaze begins to wander
As the voice drones on and on

It is the nature of the Speaker
to Speak
And his words pour forth like raindrops
But try as I might I can only
Focus on the space between the words
The voice drones on and on

He pulls out a handkerchief
Dabbing one round silvery bead of sweat
That has appeared on his high shiny Brow
All the meanwhile
The voice drones on and on

My concentration is my friend
But my friend is weak
I wish it were made of steel
Instead of one-ply toilet paper
My mind is easily scattered into the eight corners of the room
The voice drones on and on

My mind drops my body
But not in a good way
The voice drones on and on

Looking up at the scorching white of the overhead
An errant pointer scurries across my eyes
The screen flickers
The power is cut
A universe dies
But the voice drones on and on