My Head is Broken

Whatever will I do

with this head of mine,
it thinks of nothing,
no thoughts divine,
and when i come close
to pondering fare,
i sit and wonder,
i sit and stare.
Nothing ever comes easily
in this cognitive lump,
a heap of nothingness,
a neurological rump.
And should it decide to spark a fuse,
a thought, an idea,

i shall not refuse.