There is a room that
stands unoccupied at
the moment and far away
as I sit in a similar sized
room but worlds away
in a church basement.
My cloistered cell
The hour of sanity I get
in this place of insane
monotony and the
suffocating blanket of Truth –
a hammer with no definition,
a weapon yielded above my head.
This insane place of little
Napoleons running around with
hammers in their hands
laughing insane laughs and
hitting me over the head
until I bleed.
I hide in my monk’s cell
and pray that those
soldiers of rationalism
with their little hammers
do not find me out.
I probably need a better
hiding place in a
similar sized room
but world’s away.