I possess a very active mind full of ideas.

All hotter than fresh quesadillas

yet more tasteful than plain tortillas.

Sometimes there are too many for me to even keep.

Occasionally they impair my ability to sleep.

Yet I am content with that being said

because it gives me a chance to freely dump all of those thoughts

onto paper or computer and just empty my head.

No need to worry, my imagination is healthy and well fed.

When mental malnurishment occurs, this mind will sleep when

it is dead.

This poem is about: 


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