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A feeling of mild discomfort
like typing on a keyboard that is not your own
distractions of the mind
halt, hinder, handicap.

My left hand searches for Ctrl Z
when the right gets a stroke wrong
as I stand in front of an easel…

I mean an easel.
not the RGB screen.
not a metaphor,
the easel.

The glasses get misplaced
and I think I’ll just give them a ring
The other day, I misspelt a song
but the microphone
hid it with a screech
(hooray for serendipity)

muddle me all the time
escapism, mum calls it
lack of attention, she says

I’m not in love
so that’s ruled out
everything else’s fine too
pretty much, I think.

as no reason exists
for this state of mind
I’m tempted to call it
some googled mind-disease

When actually, mum is right.

(I think).

there’s too much to do
too much
to absorb, chew, ruminate on
and not all of it I want to

so attention dwindles
never spanning as much as it should

I refresh that web-page
I refresh that web-page
I refresh that web-page

…and the brain remains stuck on it
even when the day, hour, minute,
even the world
have refreshed themselves

I need blinkers, filters, wipers
or perhaps 3D glasses
to declutter and demuddle.

Demuddle– there’s not even such a word
unless one considers
those urban dictionaries
of the rule-less, rigid world.

Now if I can condense all this to 140
I’ll tweet it.
If not, I’ll blog it.

and add to the very clutter
I try to order.