((Mineminemine. Do not steal))
A long pause.
Tick tock, tick tock.
My brain feels like a dried raisin,
Stuck between my earlobes,
Juices sucked out to make wine somewhere far from here-
Wine that I will never taste.
Nerve impulses, carrying creative ideas,
Slam into a big block of deadwood
In the middle of a normally clear thoroughfare.
I wish it belonged to some other writer.