My professor once talked about
How hostile environments
Might kill the most fertile of seeds.
How children can die in their mother’s womb,
And how seeds might fail to germinate (their expansive promise still latent)
When they’re met with conditions that aren’t right.
Maybe that would explain
The lack of coherence in my mind
It’s exhausting inability to produce
a single thought, or an idea
Worth having
A brazen barrenness lies
Endless, all consuming
Obliterating all there was, is, and will be
Till all that’s left
Are carcasses of rotten seeds
Withered bodies, suffocated
Wailing, half decayed
Waiting for death.