I twist and squirm
and attempt futilely
to accomplish
anything. It works
not, for my mind is
an utter wasteland
with a smog that
writhes through the
crevices of my
brain--choking any
partially formed
synapse before it
completes itself.
Clawing and
scratching at my
brain’s walls, I slip
further into the dull,
gray mass. Fighting
it is useless--so I
allow myself to lay
there--enveloping
me knowinglessly.
Sinking beneath my
moth-eaten mattress
my now empty head
pounds--the pressure
overwhelming.
Knowing nothing
but pain, my mouth
opens and sound
escapes--what sound
I know not, for I hear
nothing but the
pounding until after
universes it
explodes--banging,
sending planets out
into the open. The
dark, hard, used
masses shoot out and
bang against the
padded walls--
bouncing back they
hit my exploding
head--dulling the
internal pain by the
resounding ringing
of the bell, yet I
know not any of this
for my mouth is
frozen in its
screaming and the
rest is exploding--
bouncing back and
suffocating me. All
is in the recesses of
my brain.