Lost in Thought

How does one escape the putrid belly of the mind,
That deep digestive process always seeking to malign?
Trapped, like fickle Jonah, in a beast of dwelling fiction,
Tossed within a churning of the juiciest constriction.
Hands out blind, and searching, for a seam at which to claw,
As countless time is wasted in that unproductive hall.
When, at last, the taste is gone, and texture's that of fat,
The mind fatigues and then relents, and out the morsel's spat.


April 24, 2010