Thinker's Block

Thu, 03/04/2021 - 22:51 -- woila

Whoopee, new material!!

(New poem, but old frustration... to anybody who can suggest

a cure for chronic empty brain syndrome, I'll revere you forever.)

This one is very short. Just a first attempt to get something out while the brain is trying not to cooperate.

 

I wake in stupor, half-past ten,

and carry still a sleepless dread.

What is missing, but my head?

I find it -- empty, yet again.

 

My buzzing stomach wants for breakfast,

only to quiet the yapping maw;

the parched brain croaks for satiation --

if just for knowledge in a straw.

And once the desperate thirst expelled

I hope to clutch, absorb, retain,

as in desert sand does water sink;

though here as oil is repelled, 

then vanished in a wink.

 

With each push, fatigue and fog resists

as a stubborn horse kicks when taken to drink,

and the last hollow drop is dried in boxed-up books and hardened ink;

all I want's a chance at being, before it's dissolved in a blink,

For the love of all that's in my heart:

I just want to bloody think.

This poem is about: 
Me

Comments

Additional Resources

Get AI Feedback on your poem

Interested in feedback on your poem? Try our AI Feedback tool.
 

 

If You Need Support

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741