I'm in the middle
of a puddle
of befuddlement.

Wandering
in the wilds
of bewilderment.

Fumbling in a fog.

Stumbling in the smog.

I'm entangled
in the jungle
of embranglement.

My mind is in a jumble,
any minute it may crumble.

I'm adrift
in the darkness
of derangement.

Each day i wait in horror
For the coming of tommorrow.

My poetry surely stinks,
And i'm running out of ink.

Does someone have a pen i can borrow?

11/22/2001

Posted on 11/22/2001
Copyright © 2024 Ulyss Rubey