Thoughts

 

thoughts

my thoughts

wild – rebellious

children

scampering

here and there

never stopping,

never pausing

not even to catch a breath

 

nor do they seem to care

that time is passing

 

other times

nothing, nada, zilch

nil

not even a trickle

to soothe my parched

and fevered brain

What is there

what little bit

seems stuck

mired down in mists

of trouble and turmoil

not apathy — no.

I should be so lucky.

Not even wanting to get

unstuck

out of the muck.