They warn about the mess inside,
The clutter in my head,
The sheer accumulated grime
Where thoughts are left unmade.
I stress about some unpaid bills,
Then let the dust repose,
A muddy swamp of open tabs,
And piles of laundry clothes.
I thought about a sandwich crust
I dropped a week ago,
Still lingering in a dark abyss
Where no one dares to go.
A soil of half-remembered names,
And crumbs of useless facts,
Unswept, unscrubbed, unpolished thoughts,
And overdue tax acts.
So if you say my mind is foul,
You’ve hit the nail right squarely—
It hasn't seen a broom or mop,
And frankly, cleans up rarely.
You thought I meant a different dirty?
Get your head out of the gutter!
My brain is just a dusty room
Full of trash and clutter.
Under a blanket of snow
Nestled a vessel in red
It's off to Dreamland I go
But, minus my frozen head
So, what became of my ride
I think they filled him with lead
I guess I don't care, besides
It's all his fault that I'm dead
BRAIN FLOW
Dark clouds moving on;
Winds of wisdom are blowing:
Well-breezed mind, soaring:-
You have a feeling, or a talk…
Neither, though, are what you want.
Or you see something, or you hear;
Still, doesn’t seem right…
Yet, you’d still wanna know,
What your mind, or heart, won’t show…
Anyway, carry on, but still keep the walls on.
At the end of the day, when you’ll try to listen either way,
Just… don’t listen, there’s no solution,
Do what either mind or heart say.
---
vol 3, Maybe Dark, or Not… Maybe…
step back from the cliff
your twenties' brain on the edge
change is not decline
age redraws the roads we know
changing the way your brain thinks
stress rattles the frame
old minds need to avoid storms
rumination rusts
stronger pathways bear the load
as the brain's framework evolves
inside ageing brains
new supporting pathways grow
forming a framework
where nerves trace what years reshape
building a resilient mind
ongoing support
is needed to sustain growth
keep damage away
the stronger the inner frame
the further collapse retreats
movement wakes the brain
trodden pathways branch and bind
feed the frame, not flame
less abuse and fewer harms
give the scaffold room to grow
let the mind wander
explore unfamiliar ground
build fresh connections
try some things you cannot do
strange pathways form as you go
a time traveler
looks back, looks here, dreams forward
builds mental contexts
adds layers to the framework
as time bridges connections
there may be no cliff
if the pathways are well used
framework stays alive
by building mental bridges
transforming decline to change
My brain is in brine.
My neurons are loose stones.
Some things are more dented than a mental image.
The greatest stuff is in soup cans.
Whatever makes you open such a thing.
Is not hunger.
It’s a centipede that reminds you to be hungry.
Blobs.
My neurons are loose.
The greatest stuff is in soup cans.
Prickly, squirmy.
The empty can on the floor.
The carcass.
If I were a zombie
I would definitely eat your brain
Not because I wish you pain
But because I’m consumed by jealousy
I want to be just like you
Act just like you
Think just like you
Have your brillant brain in me
Be able to understand what you see
If I were a zombie
I would eat your brain
Is this a part of my insanity ?
I don’t want to be plain
I don’t want to die in vain
Please, let me have your identity
Bird Brain
Jealous of the birds—
the way they spread their wings
and fly.
They're free.
I wonder,
if a bird could look at us,
what would it think?
Funny how we're insulted
with “bird brain”
for the very mention of thought.
Writer's block
at 9:33 p.m.
on the clock—
being that the time I'm in,
we should talk
while we have the chance.
Let me off this
tax-and-roller-coaster
within this mind.
Make it stop.
Take these thoughts
growing legs
and let them run.
Drop the rock.
Breathe the air.
Get some sun.
You're in shock.
Don't fall off.
Live.
Lost train of thought—
too many cars.
The copious serpents bedded the wolves and the sheepish grins so too unfolded the poker table is lit tonight, stripped table legs that oaken tonight, so left from the gambler were his life savings like Vegas unmatched the true course of daisies, and so darker hell-bent marble furl and regain consciousness so that we may too see the world.
The wheel is fast, and it never stops. There are many thoughts that are racing, some at the same time, some competing with each other.
Negative self talk always comes in first, with impending doom coming second.
Laying in bed trying to sleep, the thoughts don’t creep, they gyrate. Aggressively, impulsively, gyrate.
You can try to fight it, “you’re amazing, you’re awesome, don’t let these thoughts win”
But in the end the wheel never stops.
When will I learn, the wheel doesn’t ask for permission.
It just spins.
Always waiting anticipating
and for what
the other shoe to drop
the sky to fall
or nothing at all
in agitation expectation
a second guess
creating stress
it seems to me
where none need be
take a break
from how you make your bed
as you must lie in it
perhaps even die in it
either way it's in your head
and you may feel it's real
but here's a clue for you
it's your reprieve
imagination
is only make believe
Scrolling is easy
You give into gravity
You need no compass
You endlessly go down
First goes your mind
It’s stuffed with gold and garbage until it bursts
Then your bleeding organs await maintenance
Then your gray heart and your dried up soul
Get caught in a wheel that is being continuously turned by you
But you have no control over it
And every voice that matters gets put on low low volume
So that you won’t be distracted from the deafening incoherent loop of nothingness and soul numbing diarrhea because your brain craves a reset and you run it low power til it dies
And you have so many tools and no supplies
And an inability to take truth from the lies
And when your cup overflows with poison it can seep into places of importance
And you use your brain as the sponge that guards your heart
That sits down at your stomach
And it drips and it soaks
And it leaks and it never stops and the noise
it never leaves
Maximum time for minimal attention
Nothing of note is worth a mention
It comes only by reflex and invitation
An overwhelming exhaustion
the brain is working in high gear
Ability to stay focused
feels incredibly frustrating
The curved wings of the gray heron
seriously floating away
Concentration is in free fall
- a blue sky waiting tomorrow
Contest: EIGHT BY EIGHT
Sponsor: Nette Onclaud
Date: 31st July 2026
When lost in the fog of the mind
And frustration intensifies,
Confused. Lost in its density,
Questioning one's own sanity -
Loss of memory, lost in tasks
Alone in search of ways to find
A way to lift this clouded vail
To free oneself from brain fogs jail!
Kaleidoscopes in my muscles and bones.
The lighting surrounding old pay phones.
Old candy wrappers by a vending machine.
Make this hospital feel serene.
I think space rocks make up the difference.
I sold them due to indifference.
Sold my stuff to the tv out there.
Make believe chairs scattered everywhere.
I have muscles and bones for a body for now.
Sold my brain like a slimy cash cow.
But my mind was falling out of its socket anyway.
So might as well get a payday.
They handed me a wish for that old bucket of worms in my head.
I wished for another taco bar instead.
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