Soup

I don't have a brain. I have brain soup. I can't think. I can't feel. I can't hear. I can't sleep. I don't remember anything good. Who are my friends? What do I like to do for fun? Where do I call home? I can only remember pain. Everything I say comes out as word salad. Gibberish. Nonsense. Hogwash. Few can understand me. Those who do wish not to. I am a machine with a missing bolt. Each crazy, contorted, clunky motion further damages me. More motion, more damage. More damage, more crazy. More crazy, more damage. A toilet bowl of doom. Spiraling. Down. Down! DOWN! Faster. Faster! FASTER! Until I am amongst the waste of the world. I guess it also means I feel no pain.