The brain I have keeps switching gears on me.
It likes to sit in neutral and just idle,
So when I think I have to try and sidle
Up to ideas, and roll on them. I see
Others fly by me, wild and rapidly
Pressing the pedal down. And yet I bridle
My mind, knowing it might go fratricidal
And kill its own momentum foolishly.
So strange it is to wander in between
Max power and a half-dazed state of being;
It isn't something that I really mean,
And yet it's something I am often seeing:
Concentration comes in fits and starts;
It's unresponsive to my conscious parts.
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