Reminiscing

Reminiscing the old times like the chapters of a decrepit book

Consciousness dangling from a crooked hook in the depths of the driveling brook that is my mind

But my thoughts are blank

In reprisals to obstinate a clean slate of the rapid beats beneath my breast plate

I've come to contemplate

Wait.

There's a need to elevate, what I escalate, so I can dissipate what I no longer emulate

If only my mind would cooperate

So we can deviate the matters at hand

Take my hand

And lets expand this decrepit book to a new consciousness of thinking

A clean slate