2:26 AM.
Arial Narow font, 12 point, Doublespaced.

Room dark with uncertainty
tasting only the last
sips of my earl grey tea.

Strong as hell.

My mind, emotionless, blank.
Carpet damp with mediocrity;
lukewarm.

The only stimulation in my mind
is the taste of my
oversteeped earl grey tea.

Half empty.

I highlight my résumé
and
fingers quivering in confused rage,
I press the delete key.

No longer sipping my tea,
I now gulp.

I make another cup.

Suddenly, my movements become choppy
with primal anger.

I throw my coat halfway on,
hair frumpy,
mind frumpier,
and I start to run.

I dont stop until
I know Ive found
that timeless cliche,
that old american figment,
true,
pure,
real
freedom.

No longer hiding
in a pedestrian shell
of conventionalism,

I now walk.
Spiritual resolution carreses
my rattled mind.

I now sip
my earl grey tea.
No longer strong as hell,
no longer gulped.

I now rest
in a state of
boundless transcendentalism,
at peace.