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Those greyed pink strands
That trickle with a crackle
As neurons motor there their weigh

That Brian that named itself

I gave the voices in my head their own costumes

Some synapses may have snap
…………………………..………p
…………………………………..e
…………………………………..d

Some people don’t have an inner voice
I think I got their share

Some just grunt
Not the day to ask how I am
Some whisper tirades of alarms
Some plot within
while chances of escape are slim

They all came from planets
No earthlings

Scarred Wars

Things Han could have responded….

Me and Luke are a thing

Once you go Chewie…

Get your stuff outta of the falcon

You snogged your brother

I am doing this to get away from you, you nutter

My name is Indiana

Something something
this comes way.

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