english class was like jumper cables

my mind moves reluctantly, like a boot
entrenched in mud.
sluggishly,
and slathered in ennui,
it stirs, blinks itself into focus, and almost
settles back down. but it doesn't,
and instead it creaks,
emits a sad rusty screech, and resumes operation
at its lowest functional capacity.
some of its edges, when touched,
crumble. some of its gears,
when summoned, remain locked.
pieces of it fall away in unbroken chunks,
but the heart of it is restored
and repairs are under way
and it exported this,
which may or may not be better
than nothing at all.