Limbic Thievery
My jaw drops and unhinges like a snake's
To swallow the egg, your yolk of wisdom.
What I know seems so obtuse and opaque—
A cracked shell series of stupid theorems.
My ideas—inchoate, incomplete,
Impossible to form, say, or define.
My inner resources swiftly deplete
And the slope of my mood also declines.
My efforts even—a subterfuge.
All thoughts are thin vapors forced to perspire.
Thus, I fe'el the need to find refuge,
For doing so must certainly inspire
My mind to seek past its limitations
By dwelling in your imaginations.
poem by Tim Stensloff
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