I write,
Waste time like anyone else,
And occasionally I do something real or worthwhile.

Lately there’s been a lot of time wasting away
And I watch my pile of unread books
That don’t go away like they used to.

My appetite used to feed on a book or two a week
And now I’m not hungry for more than one
Every two weeks at best.

Its like eating and soccer or the gym,
I haven’t been pushing myself enough mentally
So my brain isn’t asking me for food,
The books sit undevoured.

Freud has been sitting in some part of my mind
And has found his way into my hands
And Skinner joined him in what made me seem
Like a psychology undergrad,
But I’m reading it for fun.