Just Static (Sonnet)

Doors within doors within doors within doors just like some silly three stooge comedy. Now I am standing on some Scottish moors, Islamic Jihad is setting out tea. It just never ends, and it never stops, this insane babble just plays in my head. Now this tower of inanity flops from one subject to the next subject, dread visions flow to joy, but now no nearer to divine Godhead than to the blackheads on my chin. Oh, I'd love to be the bearer of glad tidings but nirvana's been down on her luck lately and still needs a fix. Getting past that third chakra's just a *****.