Out of Order

My brain's out of order

there’s nothing within

I couldn’t stop my intellect

from going on a hike

no matter how I race

it gallops faster

on steed of erased thoughts

taking its sterling ideas

mounted on pencil of escape

my eraser shudders forlorn

but there’s nothing to delete

past reflections obliterated

blank pages unfilled

cycle of delete, repeat, erase

crumpled papers on floor

aneurysm of sentiments

burst my veins of perception

I bend my ideations

begging them to home in

on frantic needy space

before mind crumbles to dust

but I hear the refrain

your brain is drained

as I sit in the block

that all writers face.