Image: “Corridors of the Mind” created by ChatGPT
Corridors of the Mind
In the heart’s corridor, doors stand ajar,
Each begging for touch, blistering the mind.
Trivialities in single file align,
To fill the hollow scoundrel with desire.
Funny men should not rule this grim bazaar,
Where goose-steps march, the brain-dead kind.
With straw in hand, they skirt the just, confined,
Dealing in drugs, their fate a tarnished star.
Yet she, who spurned love’s slow, sweet sorghum drip,
Denies its warmth, her heart a barren plain.
Her mother hears “I love,” but words fall thin,
For funky notions find no place to slip.
In a blank cathedral, where the marginal reign,
Blather and lies stir uproar’s reckless din.
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