A room full of blood/orange juice

I like actually being able to get into work, sometimes I will just start working become obsorbed, stop thinking, stop hearing, just work, people could be buzzing be me on a busy street, nothing penetrates, then suddenly, a return to the real world, where we realize, that has all happened in a split second, nobody realized you were gone at all. You on the other hand have been away for what seems like a century, dust piled up around you. it's probably best that you weren't gone for so long, becuase then surely you tires would be flat and your gasoline would be stale, and you would be a skeleton, which would invariably be donated to an art school so later in reincarnation you could draw yourself.

Love,

The skeleton in the closet