Brain fart A. . .

I lay on my back, searchin' for my soul
Can't stop this motion 'til I see myself whole
Not sure where this poem I write is gonna lead
Drops of sweat form on my head like beads

I'm not nervous, just anxious, cuz I am
not sure where my resting grave sits on this land
Where my peeps will leave, what remains of me
So I think, then create, then write what's in me

The faster I think, the more I lose control
Of this computer, called my brain I behold
By and by, I'm shackled to myself
Print these thoughts that I have and throw 'em on a shelf

Just a thought, a thought that I had
About some shit, that kind of makes me glad
That I like to spend time contemplating life
To be continued. . . . . . . . . . yeah. . . . . . . .hype