Failed.

I enter the room, prepped and ready to blow this thing out of the water.
Sitting down, I tap my pen on the desk
and stare blankly at the paper.

“Oh crap.” I think, as I realise that I ought to
Have some sort of thoughts swirling round in my head.
Eventually, when I have harnessed the ability to think at such an early hour,
All I can think of is a few vague ideas –
And then Vic Reeves belting out the Star Trek theme, spinning Liz McClarnon round
and showing her a quid.

Scrunching my eyes, my mind begins to skid
to a halt.
Now, the only thing I can think of is the awful pain in my head,
And the colours that dance on the paper, on the walls, on the floor.
“No more!” I inwardly scream, as if the pain were a small man inside my head that could hear me begging him to move out and find somewhere else to live.

Fat chance.

I end up outside, pinching the bridge of my nose
in an attempt to wave the colourful parade off home.
It is at this point that I realise – I’ve failed.