again about the work - sorry.

sitting here on the 36th floor in this tower i am suffocating.
i tug at the top of my black turtleneck sweater;
is that what is choking me?
i squint and wince
feign polite salutations to passerbys
i swallow salty saliva vomit
keep the screams down
there is a dulling sensation at my temples
i fear my mind is oozing from my ears invisible
it appears i am most inconscpicous
they don't heed me
stealing pens and notebooks and faking phsyical presence
they don't see me
scribbling furisouly under my desk whenever ideas descend

good.