My Mind Is Gone

 

 In a foul swoop of tastlessness,

my mind is gone,

in a way I have been set free,

from the curse of imagination.

Day after day I write these things,

my mind growing more weary,

you get me now,

not my thoughts anymore,

here I am in single person form.

After twenty have gone by,

it feels like brady bunch re- runs,

they keep playing but no one cares anymore,

put my mind on mute and yet,

my inner voice lingers in me,

taunting me,

yelling for me to write and so I do.

In the smoky recesses of my head,

I put my brain on the rack,

straining it through water torture and solitary confinement,

and still it works and functions all too well.

Here it is again,

in a barrage of creations,

maybe it is the eyes that cause it,

windows to the universe,

I sit at my desk,

seeing everything through my imagination,

my pencil free from my hand,

Give me a labotomy,

in a day it is back,

that monster called a brain,

twenty one and twenty two go by;

only ten minutes have passed,

it feels like an eternity.

I return to my mind and stay there,

reluctantly,

never leaving,

never to be free,

never to be one of you.