I hear a motor
In my head,
Cranking, moaning,
Turning, turning...
Nearly dead.
I have an onion
In my head;
Has it a seed
I can embed.
So I keep
Peeling, peeling...
I have a pencil
In my head,
An HB2
With blunted lead,
Scratching on
A blank cortex,
Itching to put
Thought to text.
Scratching, scratching...
I have dough
Inside my head,
Needing kneading
Just like bread.
When it's baked
Sliced and spread,
I'll serve it up
Outside my head.
Feb 24, 2015
Feb 24, 2015 at 10:01 AM UTC
I hear a motor
In my head,
Cranking, moaning,
Turning, turning...
Nearly dead.
I have an onion
In my head;
Has it a seed
I can embed.
So I keep
Peeling, peeling...
I have a pencil
In my head,
An HB2
With blunted lead,
Scratching on
A blank cortex,
Itching to put
Thought to text.
Scratching, scratching...
I have dough
Inside my head,
Needing kneading
Just like bread.
When it's baked
Sliced and spread,
I'll serve it up
Outside my head.
