Befuddled

It is one of those long days
when everything seems to pass in a haze

Yet I can hear the footsteps of mind
though it seems to find itself in a bind

As if it is in some kind of a daze
unable to find plausible, ways

To think clearly and move ahead
no enjoyment, only dread

No will to read or post but to laze
and turn inwards its critical gaze.