Balloon head

I’m all out of ideas

Suffering from the brain-drain

A balloon-head, ready to burst

From the pressure of nothing but stagnant air

A void to be avoided

If only the choice were there

My pen poised on the empty page

I climb into my mind but it’s vacant and bare

So I stare

And try to envisage

line tumbling after line

I question how I’m feeling?

I’m OK – we’re doing fine

Except we’re not!

We’re truly doing so much better than that

With food, a bed and shelter,

a million things to watch on the TV,

Games to play and books to read,

pets and each other to love,

plans to make to who knows where and who knows when.

Which is essentially the root of the problem.

Not knowing.

So I’m still here, just sitting

Staring at a page and hoping

for the words that just don’t come

and I ponder how one so lucky

Can sometimes feel so numb.