Tried to search his backpack

Dirty bomb

Knap sack

From his mom

Filled with condoms

And dirty gym clothes

In the back part

Known to act smart

Had a knack

For motherboards

And swords

Made electronics

Studied tectonic

Frequencies

In his spare time

Made a tesla coil

When he was 3

He had a rare mind

They called it autism

Like a thought prison

A destructive pattern

That assaults wisdom

Push the button and walk with it

Doing nothing

Wasn't option

There was no one to stop him

But a lost doctor

Who had come from the office

Wasn't paying attention

Bumped into him

And he flew into another dimension

Beforе he knew it

He had comе to his senses

Tried to click it

But on his back

Something was lacking

It was missing

He doubled back

But it was a wall

Right there to stop him

He turned around

And all he could see was yellow carpet

Looked for his bag

But then realized

That he dropped it

And what the fuck is up with this carpet

Down the hall

The lights keep flickering

And he could swear

Something was off

Moving in the shadows in the darkness

He was off put

That's to say the least

Heard gnashing of the teeth

Now he wrestling a beast

Trying not to be a feast

National geographic

Dog survival is a habit

In them mutha fuckin

The back rooms