Same Point, Seven Ways

I sit, baking in the seat of learning,
no hope of escape from the furnace,
the same point seven different ways,
new levels of boredom set in.

Little help from a thought,
no loved one to entertain my mind,
the air hangs heavy with dread
as the lecturer looks on.

Hum of the projector provides the tune,
as each group recites their notes,
eyelids hang heavy with sleep
with the end drawing near.

Release cannot be soon enough,
the caged mind goes looking for distraction,
consumed with anything but the process,
wandering through the dark places in my mind.