Scientific Fists

Goggled eyes gaze fixedly

As I scuttle through fanatical formations

Of flamingly bright white walls

That exist only to baffle my easy-to-swallow pill of a brain.

 

I struggle to maintain

The little semblance of sanity

That sits in an untouched curve of my spinning capsule cranium.

 

Motivation to end the humiliation of disorientation

Is squashed by scientific fists.

One thousand-piece puzzle ends, a 2,000-piece sequel begins �"

The mist of lost muddles my microscopic mind

And I am indelibly foggy.

 

Needle pricks every day

Are merely a soft pinch to my numb exterior.

I’m just a lab rat, inferior after all,

Waiting for the contagious murk to mask the masked faces

Of the assassins of lucidity.