After William Blake. H/t Rose McGowan.
I had a tangle in my head.
I had some tea, and went to bed.
When I awoke, a tree had sprung
where before, confusion stung.
Its branches flung out pros and cons
in lattices of rights and wrongs.
And I rested in its shade,
my decision all but made.
I had a tangle in my head.
I wrestled with it, full of dread.
And ripped out its seeds to sow
all around my bungalow.
Soon I was walled in by weeds
from too many idea seeds.
Reason quickly grows surreal
unless I first ask how I feel.
