The brain had elected itself Judas, sleazy loud with silver jangling
In this grand guignol of new and quickly old concussion
Limbs roasted themselves to occult temperatures
Yet remained whitely chilled under air that strove to rub, scrape, signify
Thoughts chased themselves till they forget why they could run
Randomised into particles of passion and pain
A small bed-bound Jesus crucified by nerve endings
Twitching was sporadic, evidence of breath in throes of misfiring ideas
Head heard Monk, The Bird, at duel, with strange violins at intermissions
Cracking against the neurones and Dura like a blind vision made palsy
Sitting, sat, shutting out the all that was not within, blinking against brain
Misshapen words extruded upon a rogue tongue
Glossolalia for village idiots to divine the profane
Nothing of worth but heroic under effort
After the storm this ship was shattered with nary a rock visible
Heaving after hours, a sprawled birthing of both saint and sinned upon
Whore of metaphysics, drained by the Johns, now smithed into wet nothing
Alcohol verboten, still ju-ju juice for salvage
As Jack baffled the more nefarious symptoms and bearded any lion's mania
This before the dreams, triggering stream sweat like incense
And the day began somewhere far from this wasted being-ness
Rem-sleep running SOS semaphore behind wild, silent-movie lids.
All rights reserved.
My brain makes me stay awake for 74 hours sober and then gives me something to cry about!
Repeat every day for one year & one month. Til now (still happening)
Like one of those 3D paintings; I hope that from there, this poem gives a sense of being concussed or deranged righteously!