My mind is thick and slimy, full of lumps
like porridge hours cold, with here and there
raisins or almonds hiding in sticky clumps
without a shred of meaning anywhere.

There’s too much chaos in the world today.
I can’t maintain my arrogance in verse,
protect my best convictions from decay
or slow the plummet into even worse.

Age is only one of my excuses.
Admitting I’ve been wrong helps not at all.
I never found my greatest talents’ uses.
I only beat my head against the wall.

14 Sep 2025