Cornered

I cannot escape my labyrinthine mind.

Every thought I have is so original

until the field changes and I am looking

with a new set of judgemental eyes.

Of course that idea was cliche!

Anyone who knows a smidge of sci-fi

could come up with aliens trapped in a race

or murderous machines that can melt into puddles.

Ever since I was little, I was a sponge.

Put something in front of me and it’s mine.

12*12=144, the moon controls tides, so much

just dumped over and over into my brain,

and now I am tasked with an original thought.

Something so simple a SpongeBob episode

only dealing with boxes could do it.

See, there it goes again!

I fear that the sponge will begin to mold,

and my thoughts will always be hackneyed.

My dreams of being a writer and rubbing

all of my success and awards in the faces

of naysayers and assholes and boring teachers

are going down the dark bottomless abyss.

I guess I should’ve realized how far the fall is

when one jumps for a star and misses entirely.

Once again, I am trapped in my mind,

wandering a corridor of exits endlessly,

looking for the one that I dreamed of.

Maybe dreams don’t come true...

Maybe dreams are just what we humans use

to forget our useless existence in our heads,

constantly wandering, ceaselessly looking

for a way to get out of the box.