My cranium, once cavernous,
is filled with such minutia,
with words that flatter, my gray matter
has turned the boldest fuchsia.
The evening news has taken space
reserved for all my musing,
I remember each and every face,
but not through my own choosing.
These grand ideas that haven't hatched
will find a way to haunt me,
they all look good on paper,
but in action, are just daunting.
Events that hold a special spot,
retained through repetition,
birthdays, anniversaries, and the lot;
to forget one is sedition.
My head's all clogged from writing blogs,
my thoughts are one big jumble,
If I would try to speak my mind,
I'd probably only mumble.
Clarity has flown the coop,
my logic's hard to follow,
I get so flustered I could spit,
but you'll find that hard to swallow.
TV is a mindless task,
I'm not the biggest viewer,
I'd put my mind up on e-bay
and find me something newer.
My thinking is an endless drone,
the humming starts to bug me,
I wish that I could find a way,
for someone to unplug me.
Yikes! I'm convinced that this phenomenon happens after the age of...45-ish and gains momentum at 50-something???? I can't be that old, really, right? *sigh*
ReplyDelete"I get so flustered I could spit, but you'll find that hard to swallow."
ReplyDeleteThis was my favorite part. The visual was so nasty and awesome. Perhaps that's my issues with "contamination" speaking, but still.... Brilliantly disgusting, Walt.