Mental fires of industry. Smoke and steam leaking from ears.
Carbon footprints on the soul. The unsupervised automata of conditioned thought.
Like 1000 monkeys on typewriters. Random nonsense.
Sometimes something sensible. Rarely very useful.
Clawing back control. Regulating the automata.
Firing the Monkeys. Clean away the clutter.
Learning a new approach. The regime of the Self.
Finding the balance. Taking control.
NOTE: During my years at University, I often wrote nonsensical poetry and prose, which I then force-fed via email to anyone I could think of. I’ve had the stirrings to start this again… You have been warned.
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