mi estas laca

I see all these poem creators here
dutifully publishing poems day after day
rushing in a grand torrent of creativity
how do they do it?

I burn out from creativity so fast
fatigue sets in my brain
I have already said all there is to be said
and then I prove myself wrong again

my mind is stretched in a million places
all at the same time
neither here nor there nor anywhere
or anywhere at all

I’ll be back soon
the fountain of youth has run dry
this is an old mind I drag around with me
do you feel the same?


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