I want to write a poem.
But again my brain does not want to.
Seams to be all ****** up.
Thinks of all the things, that I do not want to.
Not even a seeds of sparks.
Just these illusive thoughts and dreams.
Come on brain.
Give me my poets mind again.
Maybe for 20 minites or more.
Just so I can get something on paper.
No that did not mean I wanted to ****.
This paper here.
I am sitting infront of it.
Like I like just sitting here and picking my nose again.

Might even cut my toe nails later.
Well that how sometimes it goes.