"Good Morning, How Are you?"

[Magpie]

After the seventh tranquilizing anecdote,
my head was a precariously teetering cannonball
and the foundations of this shanty town mind
groaned louder with each successive shockwave
that emanated from your monotonous epicentre.

You are Russian roulette without the luxury of death.
I must learn the art of asking rhetorical questions.