Numbers

Numbers, sigmas, mus and shit,
All running together,
A jumbled highway full of rats
Looking for cheese
With the impending doom
Just overhead.
My calculator burneth bright,
Smoking from between the cracks,
And I worry about what else there is to do.
All that jazz, all that jazz,
Bad music, set to drugs,
You want to leave this place
But you find that you can't.
An inability to overcome, perhaps?
Can't quite push the rock over?
Sisyphus knows this all too well.
Numbers are nebulous.
Tests say I'm left brain dominant,
But I can't break through.
Unclear. Very unclear.
Moments of inarticulation
Boggle the salivating audiences
Of the world,
And for what, you might ask?
The rat race is on,
On to crunch the numbers
As the cheese maliciously teases.