I’ve had a long day, so I’m going to keep this short today. The following rhyme is what happens when I write when I’m so tired I’m literally dozing off while typing. Enjoy!

Stream of Unconciousness

I’m far too tired to make words work,

Or bend them to my will,

My day’s been long and my fatigue,

Robs me of any skill.

I wish I could do better than,

Dredge up this hackneyed line,

I’m certain in tomorrow’s light,

I’ll wish this were not mine.

The words they shove and jostle so,

Corralling them so hard,

When every neuron feels like,

It’s packed in thick, cold lard.

I fight through the molasses in,

The space between my ears,

Where every word I try to write,

Seems fit only for jeers.

How long I wonder “til the end,

When my eyes close at last,

And all the words fade out to black,

With this day in the past.

But that is then, this is still now,

Must somehow carry on,

Keep putting words down on the page,

Despite all sense long gone.

But sense is not something I have,

In excess anyway,

So likely no one else will see,

Nonsense in what I say.

Thank you for taking time to read,

What my dulled mind has writ,

If you were waiting for some point,

I fear this was not it.

The point is this to never write,

When your poor brain is toast,

But if you do, for Heaven’s sake,

Don’t share in public post.

Cheers,