I lay there so silently
Blinking, thinking, quietly
In the darkness in the gloom
Impending, coming, looming doom
End of thoughts, pond’ring not
Mind is blank, no song, no plot
Emotions come not to me
And yet they do, constantly
No line, no order, lords Chaos come
It’s as good as if there were none.
To be poem is to be complex and yet
Too compound is this to be writ and set.
I think not what this problem means
For when my mind touches there, void endless seems
Falling nowhere in the nothing, mind recoils
Snap me back to life and its foils.

Help! it’s a cry. Floundering as I lie
Help! it’s a scream. Splitting at my seam
In this mediocre cycle of a life-dream.