Attack of the Dust Bunnies
Dust bunnies clutter my mind
with banality, undefined
and I’m trapped within this bind,
without my thoughts—left behind.
For nothing is real, it’s all a dream,
the good…the bad, nothing’s as it seems.
So my mind, stretches at the seams,
trying to catch the hidden mean(ing).
I just want the truth…I need it;
to find something in this world that fits.
Searching for a clue amongst the exhibits,
my mind drifts…I’m forced to quit.
For in this day, I lack my poetry;
writing seems forced—without clarity.
Must I fade away…into obscurity?
Alone, ‘cept for the multiplying dust bunnies.
© September 13, 2010 CRF