Rhythm of My Pen

Click...click...click...

The obnoxious tremor of my vocal pen echoes blankly throughout my ears. My eyes woundered aimlessly from my vexatious pen to the dull abyss of my office surroundings.

This grey cubicle enclosed my very being, yet devoid of my vivid spirit. At the moment, my lifeless stare appeared unbreakable.

My vision was was too far sunken in this state of seemingly dark, hazy bliss. My senses only processing the click...click...click...

An array of colors speckled across my plane of vision. It was as if someone had shot a palate of ambiguous shades in every visible angle. But amidst it all, I could still hear the echoes - those rhythmic taps that seize to evade my consciousness. The echoing overlapped.

The color of my life. My purpose. What does it all mean? What is happening to me right now?

My current state was inexplicable - unawareness, freedom, imagination, excitment, a vibrant outlook.Which do I chose? Which do I sacrifice?

"Umm... Mr. Stevens. I have some documents that the boss wanted you to review", a female's monotonous voice muttered before the slapping of papers upon my desk dehypnotize me from entransed, yet indescribable fantasy.

(Sigh)Back to reality.