Nonsense in the dark

Here amongst this darkened room
a fork could compose a tune,
an ice cream float parade for lunch,
a boxer collapse drunk on punch.
Playing across this inky pitch
teaming dreams compete for thought, which
hang in gloom on hooks of ideas
stimulating both hopes and fears.
And yet I sit alone, unmoving,
the blank of dark obscure but soothing.
Round about my thoughts are strewn,
here amongst this darkened room.