Mind a Flutter

My mind is a flutter,
Clogged with lots of clutter.
I need a mental enema,
That is for sure.
Stupid words.
No rhyming in season
What is the reason,
That my heads hurts
In the morning,
But not at night.
My back is aching,
Until a hot shower.
I feel like a horse,
Rode hard and
Put away wet
And yet,
These are words
That I now get.
Why is that?
I ask the Lord.
Is it because
I'm mentally bored
Or that this writing
Will be so abhorred?