tired brain poem
i can't write anymore, like my brain's getting sore like it itches but i cannot scratch and i can't think of things, and it hurts and it stings like my brain's been replaced by a rash i don't know why i'm here, like i'm pierced by a spear which has taken my art from inside and it's crumpled it up, and what's left is all rough like a monster from which i can't hide and i bitch and i moan, i complain and i groan like a child who can't get their way i am innocent, yes, but i can't pass the test so i'll pack up my bags for the day and my brain's like a shell, like i'm ringing a bell like the sounds in my skull magnify, it's not like how before i could do any chore without even having to try like a juicer has squeezed, and i'm begging, like, please, to return to my previous state but my brain i can't cheat, and what's done is complete since i'm old now i can't wipe the slate