Getting cold, my muscles jitter, brain it’s done but words don’t wither.
How much longer can I go pushing, when all the weights are filled with cushion?
What is wrong with all my thoughts when they all rhyme and words get tossed.
Do not think a line before, it just comes out and rhymes some more.
Getting colder, yes I am, feel oh-so close approaching death.
Tired friend, I really am, hurting much, close to the end.
Too much coffee, being alone, too much knowledge not yet exposed.
Understanding much doth bring lots of pain and comfort’s sting.
Just for once give me one fan, a reader of what I think not’s bland.
So much pain this job it brings so much of knowing uncertainty.
Days to nights from nights to day and all day long the words glow grey.
I see them coming from my pen, straight to my paper and edit them.
All for what, for who, for nothing, holy shit have I missed something?
I sure hope not, don’t think I have, I’m pretty sure I’m not that bad.
Hearing speak, it gets so old, almost all words are thrown at bold.
La-de-dah, da-de-de-doh, read my words or they’re unwrote.
No I don’t care much ’bout me nor bout the things that money brings.
But these words I feel them tear, I feel the way good words run fair.
Swooping circles, silent dew, some metaphors fill me with puke.
How can I judge, how can I say, how can my voice mean anything.
I am unpublished, not yet a dollar, just a lot of words and not much slumber.
Do-de-dah de-dee-de-dooh, I think this poem’s shitted gold.
I’m not yet crazy, not yet I ain’t, but maybe by the end I fade.
Seeing sounds and hearing lights and smelling touch and thinking howls.
Oh my goodness oh my gosh I have just lost it my brain needs scotch.
Settle down my fine brain please, it’s time to put the thoughts at ease.
Just let them stop we’re sounding mad, scaring off potential fans.
What will they think when they all know that we don’t think ’bout what we wrote.
Oh my golly goodness shoes! What do shoes even have to do, with anything here being used?
Brain I swear, I swear I fear you’ve lost your mind! Yes now I’ve said it.
You’ve gone away and left me endless. Need to please stop typing this, not one out there knows what we mean.
You’re scaring them, my brain, please stop! How many words does your work cost?
Just lose it brain you need to quit it, this poem is a tale unwritten.
- Thomas M. Watt