I reached for a prompt

to put my mind at ease enough

to force a spark to ignite what’s left

of this smooth brainflesh bruised,

abused by hours of critical decisions.

But troubled minds don’t fold in on themselves

through actions squeezed down 

the archipelagos of limited choices,

and satiety does not come 

from doing to get out of thinking.

This whole interaction

between acting upon 

and being acted upon 

reminded me why I never reach for prompts:

They never lead me anywhere.

The seven or eight I happened upon tonight

would lead to beautiful, if coerced, constructions,

but prompts don’t lead to answers;

they only lead to action.

Sometimes the best 

action to take

is sitting back and letting the world

use you until 

it asks you what’s wrong.

You will something to say then.