Thoughtlessness

THOUGHTLESSNESS

I do not mean to be poetic

For my thoughts are quite pathetic,

Almost like a diuretic

Must be soon administered.

I cannot quite now comprehend

The reasons for my wiry pen

To scrawl these words to no real end;

It is possessed—how sinister!

Is there a way to really stop

This writing, as from me it drops?

If I don’t quit, my brain will pop!

And that would prove a nasty mess.

I must insist on going to bed

In order to rest up my head.

(What dreams I’ll find, I rather dread.)

Oh, bother states of thoughtlessness!

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