I Can’t Think

July 30, 2020 Diary entry: I gotta think, I gotta think, I gotta think, think think think, no, it’s not working, my brain is dead, my brain has gone dead, my lofty high flying hot air balloon brain feels like it is inflated with mud, I have splatted to earth, this time I may never rise again, I am mudded out, my mudded out self has become part of the very earth that I always looked down on, I think my looking down days are done, I may spend the rest of my days looking up, I’ll call the home out by the county line and see if they still have my room, I always liked my room even though it had no windows, it was cozy in an austere sort of way, was it this cold desolate city, full of rushing crowds of people all saying “Get out of my way”, the red wine drunks who continually bum cigarettes, was it the tall gray buildings that continually laughed at my small size, was it the neatly shaved white businessmen smoking cigars on the corner as they wait for the bus, or was it me, was it me, and not the city at all, am I the reason for my present condition, I gotta think, I gotta think, I just gotta think…

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