I am pondering the possibliity of posting something to my bleak blog. But what can I write? My mind is a muddle of decayed dreams and hopeless hopes. There are a few festering fantasies still fluttering through, and a woeful wish or two, but no intact ideas, no dynamic designs.

I must make room for my ruminations! I will clear the clutter, cleanse my cranium! How should I hose it? With a fearless flush? Or a controlled clearing? A wanton winnowing, or a wishy-washing? Am I asking for amnesia, or mustering my muse?

Ha! My muse is not amused, but I am. He says I'm no poet, and I say I know it, but I don't care, I'm on a tear.

My brain was in pain

I could not explain

But then I knew why

and thought I should try

to lighten its load

so t'wouldn't explode

I flushed out the junk

and found a small hunk

of undamaged cells

veritable wells

full of untold tales

Or something like that...