Fluffy. Springy.
The brain is light.
So stuffed with info, yet nothing flows.
Cotton wool filled the entire brain,
yet dry, it remains.
No juices seeped, no linkling reached.
Poems? Out of league.
Air-head.
Weeeeeeeeeee!
Its already 2021.
Because. Watched a video of a friend reading her poem. Prompted me to look for what i used to write. Waa laa... Here I am. Didn't ...
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Crushed. Fatigue.
The brain admits defeat.
So informed, yet every turn's a blank wall.
Ignorant fool forsakes the exhausted brain,
It's dry, no reason to remain.
No thoughts dripped, no conclusions reached.
Enlightenment? Out of reach.
Stays peaceful in it's own insanity.
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