Weeds.

Wandering blankly along a field of nothingness.
And the slow degrees tick by.

Talking heads sprout from loose ends
And their beginnings were weary and dry
 I tried to talk to these talking heads.
But soon lost hope along the wry.
Thinking thoughts that slowly sank in
Always ending with "Oh, Why?"

For they bore no ears nor hearts to listen
For reasons I knew not
And I wonder if I were once like them
But that was long ago and I forgot

So I backed away and left them
Without bidding them good bye
They did not take a care nor notice
minus one Asian guy

Wandering blankly along a field of nothingness.
And the slow degrees tick by.


"Have you ever felt that fleeting moment where you think you're the only sane person in the room?"  
"No."
"Then I suppose the feeling suits me well."