Sitting to help thinking yet the time moves slow

Constructing then deleting any possible poetic row

As one idea seems right the other idea makes it seem wrong

The treacherous wirting of a line becomes so prolonged

Emotions try to come and play

Yet logic ingests the emotions by the tray

Fuzzy thoughts become blurr as both coexist as one

The idea of haze is contagious as the mouth can no longer move its tongue

To yammer and rant is just a waste of breath

This is the true sign of the words of truth at their death