NEURO-TRAGEDY

I need to drain my head
just as they emptied my arm of fluid
everytime I couldn't stay awake;
It is stuck; a solid, stubborn mass
No flow, like the wooden brush strokes shudder
when I am painting her; it's a mess
I wonder constantly upon myths and legends
about tall stories I want to understand

(Do lesbians really come from Lesbos?
Sapho's crowd ruling word wars in empty bars
Did anyone want to drink there?)

I rip them apart like a shrink-wrapped psyche
(in a venetian-swept, beige office)
with nothing to do but make sure (obsessively)
that his name plate is parallel to the desk edge
Which will distract me, to no end, therefore striking through any purpose
it is null and void because vacant invalidity is on the cards
(How did I find the time to worry about such things yesterday?)
Yesterday I was tired on a thyroid deficient day
Happening alternately; I'm convinced the measures are wrong
So incomplete and lacking when something is changing and happening
Like the way I feel the need to educate myself
So that I can compete in crowded conversations
but I figured that most people with a lot to say
talk about themselves for hours and never really listen
Something will come of this today; I will write that thing
(The solid block of"thing"in my brain)
If it wants to come out, why doesn't it just flow?
All those truths and answers; the answer to life itself? - Genius
I know it but it's locked in my mind
and I keep trying to tell everyone that I have it
But I am stopped with the thought that if they know
They might cut off the top of my head
and scoop it out because it won't give itself up
Would I shrink to nothing? in post-operative dumbness
Or swell; undulating in a crescendo of steroidal prophylaxis
What if I am to be awake? In Skull-clamped terror
As they test my responses to this daylight neuro-robbery
("More suction please")
I don't think they'll be checking if I can still feed myself
More a wondering how much they can take
before I will extinguish my cigarette
and have to concede the game  (18 - nil)
because half of the players didn't turn up anyway
I am left standing at a corner; between three trees
constantly checking my apple-infested iLife for updates
(with regular follow-ups every 6/52
arriving in brown-enveloped official windows)
Now shallow and numb enough to bother with external tasks
I could create an outside as it should be
(And when I edited this after it's main viewing
I thought "Am I so real that metaphor does now not exist in my writing?")
I'll take my pills
(the ones the others dose up on all the time)
and STFU.

~ SRWB 2010