Lately I have been
running on fumes
grasping at straws
on an emotional rollercoaster
in survival mode
and
not firing on all cylinders.
Maybe I’m just wiped.
Maybe I bit off
more than I could chew.
As luck would have it,
I find myself
in a world where everything is a cliche
and anything goes
as far as the eye can see
because I have no brainpower left
to think of anything interesting
original or
non-prosaic.
I’m all bent out of shape
at the end of my rope and
I need to abandon ship
change my tune
and
just call it a day
before history
repeats
itself.
What it boils down to
is it’s back to square one
to the drawing board.
It’s time to cross out all the lines
and start from scratch.
But I still refuse
to do it all by the book.