My Brain

my brain

millions of neural pathways solving problems
with logic, right and wrong
black and white

like ants descending their hill,
raindrops disturbing a puddle,
or bees scavenging for pollen.

all is systematic and controlled,
not a beat off tick

...

until ol’ red rears his sole mighty roar

and the ants glue to their pose,

and the water turns to ice,

and the bees wings can’t flap,

because they don’t know,
that burning sensation of red
or what it even means.
Copyright © | Year Posted 2019

Poem

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