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.
Copyright © Rambling Poet | Year Posted 2015
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