Cage

my brain has its own life, its own conversations, never-ending circumlocutions this confabulation of memory leaves me unsure of the reality of my thoughts is this a chemical misstep, a minuscule of glutamate misplaced or missing or is it a mistake in my biological majuscules, an A or a G gone awry, leaving mental havoc in its wake or perhaps just a wiring mishap, a failing to bridge synapses to the branched flourishes of dendrites, leaving me thirsty for truth, a truth now conflated with errata can the brain heal itself, restore effaced letters to historiated initials or will it descend into darkness, gradually ceasing its conversations, forgetting all spelling, and become a silent grey cage