Chronic Cubicle Hell

As I stare at my fuzzy office cubicle walls, I begin to think. I guard my thoughts, for my pre-selected neighbours often rob me of my thoughts.  They rob me because they do not have orignal thoughts.  My office recycles thought, so I stand on guard.  I begin to talk less and less.  I can no longer stand talking even about the weather with these people.  They even rob you of those mindless thoughts.