Oh, Existential Dread,
How rarely I beseech you now;
I’ve covered your presence with the essence of day-to-day
I tap-dance on a pin-head
The sycophants and I exchange chemicals, tit-for-tat
Where in the brain does Ego lie?
I can’t place the origin
Of this useless desperation
but I’m a little tired now –
Could we wrap it up?
Surely there’s a greener place,
With a smidgen less rat-race –
I need no Garden of Eden,
but I’m quite keen on some intrigue.