Everything feels
stale , bland
secondhand
have already
thought that thought,
desired that,
planned out this before
inside my head is bland galore
a bored beast roams
without release
stale taste lingers around
each and every thought
feel so caught
to have this boredom roar
where once creativity soared
bored, stale , bland,
all of it second hand
need to break out of this
deadened wearied mess
a dull land with colorless
landscape passing
endlessly
just slate , slack
my brain lacks
the zesty taste of thoughts
racing , lacing creative strands
from my mind out into my hands
so need thoughts to be washed
fresh in zesty zing
that thrilling lingers and warmly clings
not need be pretending
it is new
so much etc.,
haven’t a clue
gone is the comfy
the familiar cling
wrapped about my life
it’s warming safety
has turned luke warm ,
it leaks repulsive
to cold steel
imprisoning
me in dead stale feel
slate gray washed view
draped over
need life to wash
to swirl back on in
splashing color
instead
sigh up on the same stale breath
think the same repetitive sentence
go through the same familiar paces
heart it races
zip clip zing
make it happen , anything
as long as it brings
back the zestful
creativity
along with the color
so I can again rest inside my heart
and take joy in lacing together
pretty, pleasing thoughts.
