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I feel like a poem again today
to convert and attest a feeling
an uncertain vibe, a vague flavor
an impression of somatic sensation

While I sit in complete idleness
facing the machine with a screen
full of frivolous nothings
With a blank mind, I probe into

The nothingness full of things
created and collected by myself
in the files and folders of my mind
unorganized yet systemized

I feel like a poem again today
searching through the many drives
of my randomly operating memory
to come upon some data I can use

In the endeavor to innovate upon
already existing, old, used, reused
bits of information, twisting them
for another creative purpose of mine

Still, the program doesn't run good
the bits of raw data don't collate well
the input doesn't give the desired output
leaving me feeling like a poem again

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