was it a lust for living
or lustful living
that drove the desire
the want for a man
or a woman
bent on breaking boredom

with lips painted red
and hips swaying
she will knock’um dead
on arrival

she reminded me
of someone

the idea
couldn’t flow
it was entangled
in a web of axons

brilliant
but
it was stuck
the synapses
refused to
communicate

frustration
led to
mental malaise

it is there
it is there
on the tip
of my tongue