A friend of mine asked if I was artwork at my desk, instead of working from home or being off. Because I work in a technical industry, and I yearn not for the mines, but of reams of clean paper and time to write and draw, I said this. They did not realize what I was doing at all, which leads me to believe that they too were yearning for something they had not yet found and didn’t really read what I wrote.

I’m at my desk,
oppressed
by the technology which tests
our resolve and makes us dress
but I must confess,
while I profess to be my best,
I understand that need causes stress
and a childlike state is how I’d regress out this mess.

Rather proud of that.