I got a lot of books on my shelf, but I don’t know what to do with myself.
I’m flipping pages, looking for an answer that never comes.
I cross-referenced all the prime numbered pages!
I tried reading every third word!
I threw a paperback at the window, heard the crack and watched it crumple to the ground like a bird!
I sat by myself within the ever-present gloom,
and the pages became wings and then they flew about the room,
and as the fluttering of leaves reached a crescendo I could see
all the truth that lay within those books laid bare before me!
But before I could absorb it I was swallowed by the sound
as it ended my ascension and it slammed me to the ground.
And as I felt my knowledge swirl away like water down a drain I knew:
the next day I would rise to start my fruitless search again.
I cannot synthesize these plotlines and trivia.
I don’t know what’s real anymore.
I need more information.
I’m gonna make the journey way across the city to the bookstore.
I need to feed my library.