much to my dismay...

i've grown older
and not much wiser at that
my brains are, though for not a second longer,
spoken for physically
however,
their condition is
no more brighter than before
i've acquired less common sense
in the past
year alone
than that of
the previous decade and a half
of my life
my creative thoughts have dwindled to
the empty thread bobs
that they are
though shining with silver,
their spools have not a thread of company
nor do they host a whole
bolt of fabric so intricately woven
to the Master's perfection
the bobs rest alone, these days
my brain has ceased
to create
anything save
wasted space in this
universe
grey matter is all

|| outta me melon || circa January 28, 2006 || 

Regret

Pulling the covers nearer to my chin, I

wrestled more with the idea of 'what if'

and less with the bedding that just wouldn't.

"Utter uselessness," I think I mumbled aloud.

For an hour, at most, sleep did entertain.

Now, it does seem that it should always occur

at the most comfortable hour of the night,

and always in a way that seems to awaken me so.

It crept over me... the suspicion that

I should have just bought one more blanket.