My brain is nothing but mush. Gelatinous lard that just weightily lays there. Small waves of motion slowly move thru the mass as the sounds of the voices, the screams, the sirens and alarms ripple like spastic jello dampened reverb within. And there are no words to describe the semi-solid presence and apathetic nature of nothing. Yet still it exists, and a brain is a brain. I scoop it up off the night stand and drop it back into my scull. The soggy squishy sound it makes as it gloops into the void makes me want to puke. Ah, ready for another day. Wandering thru the fog, from obscure place to obscure time, I seek meaning in nothingness and can’t even gain amusement in the zen of it all. The halls are full of zombies, yet they too cannot stand the sight of my brain and stench of death that hangs upon me like an off color yellow paisley ascot under a white shirt. Here my days pass in a ie browser sort of way. Never quite realizing a given potential as the umbrella corp churns to destroy human kind. Dull is the color, the word, the meaning and zombie just want to talk about the weather.
my heart wants a transplant because it thinks I’m nuts, my logic wont open and my eyes wont shut. –Ian Hunter
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