In the unkept house,
Words are lost as doors open,
New dust coming in.

They say we have two halves of a whole brain.
Two sections that govern our actions
Like tyrants that ride horses with reigns made
Of nerves and weald weapons that shoot out sparks
Of neurons across our synapses
The lands of our minds that dips and rises like the Andes mountains
Amoung cerebellum fields
Where nervous horses hoofs trample
Nervous systems flowers and bend their stem
Into an L shaped pendulum that swings
Unevenly over corpus callosum oceans
That separate left and right.
Art and reason.
Two separate sets of war torn warriors fighting,
One with methodically measured maps
Marked with red flags between concurred lands of logic
And one with holistic metal armor that clinks and clanks
Around soldiers making music for them to march to
They fight over proper ways of reason
And creative formulations
Of treasons that ought not be crossed
Their trenches the rivens in our brains
That wet rot their feet with slimy blood and
Membrane juices
The left speaking in tongues
That right cannot hear when not
Set on staff lines
Or painted onto animal skin canvas
That once covered similar brain battles
Between right and left
Only to be cut and sectioned off
In improper fractions that yearn to be whole.
If only the sides would sign treaties of peace
With pens that pinch fibers together and bind
Halves into wholes.

I remember her red dress,
Of how when night came its thin straps slipped over her thinner shoulders
Falling slowly into a wrinkled circle on my floor.
I remember her seeing me seeing her put it on
She stood in front of our ice curtained window the next morning
And even though that dress was too short for autumn she would wear it anyway.
I think it was because she knew it drove me crazy.
I remember she would hide it underneath her long winter sweater
Like she was keeping safe a secret that was only just for me.
When she put on that sweater the light from the dawn
Would sneak out through the tiny holes in the fabric
It would look like sun-ray freckles kissing her skin
Her pale and previously unmarked body.
She pulled it over her head ever so slowly.
The leisurely motion in some way made me image a 9 year old boy
Who I imagine for the first time that winter hesitated
To pull but his snow boots over thickly crocheted Christmas socks.  
His feet look like her head in some way.
Both are somewhat unwilling to slide into warmer weather clothes
Both hiding a secret heating joy.

Doctor help me
give me the pill
the prescription
the fix it all
I’ll buy into the system
just take away the feeling
the shrink he says somethings wrong with me
its my brain
please Doctor
I’m begging  
scam me
give me the drug
the prescription
the fix it all
make me numb
and you could be numb too
we all have a problem
we all have a disorder
we are all bipolar, attention deficit, borderline or depressed
you see there is a name for your problems and a pill that can solve them
now you're hooked too huh?
now you buy into the system
its an ugly addiction
we’re all addicted to the high
addicted to the ****** the Lithium the Prozac
the antidepressants and the mood stabilizers
we all live and breath the fix it all system
over diagnosed zombies
lacking responsibility we beg
Doctor help me
tell me somethings wrong with me
tell me its not my fault
tell me you will give me my fix it all

Don’t watch the people,
Watch the patterns,
The habits, the gestures,
The shared reactions.