***** off the top, and crawl inside my head.

Not gooey brains, but traffic lanes,

Is what you’ll find instead.

Whizzing past,

Honking horns.

Thoughts of music, thoughts of ****.

Not all is good,

It’s usually bad.

Mad and Sad are the ones I’ve had.

The cars have halted.

There’s been a jam.

Been called a sham.

For who I am.

The lights are out.

Here come the cops.

The thinking process

must never stop.

So there they are.

The cars,

They run.

Thoughts of coffee. Thoughts of fun.

They sit around.

Now ****** and bored.

Wait a minute, what could that be?

On all the windshields,

The water did pour.

It rained and rained

And rained some more.

Because outside the city,

The City of The Brain.

The boy’s eyes, not watered at all.

It’s what he had restrained.

Elegance masked the party inside.

The dance hall was full; a celebration presides.

They all were so joyous.

A bit drunk and exposed.

The women, and the men.

Laugh with such glee!

And the party continues on.

Into the night.

Not a trickle was heard.

Until, the candles went out.

"Alas" said a boy.

Oh, what could it be?

"Not a matter of fear."

That what was said by the commoner.

So the party began,

And began once more.

Until, the candles went out.

Again, once more.

The crowd now aflutter,

The murmurs occurred.

Women were weeping,

Scared sheep in a herd.

"Now see to it here! There is nothing to fear."

"Let us celebrate without a moment of doubt."

So the party continued, and the people relaxed.

The drinking, so jubilant!

The merriment, so fun!

Then, the clock struck twelve.

And the sound was ceased.

The people had died.

All at once.

Some beer left untouched.

The food, out to rot.

Only to find,

The mystery behind,

Why, oh why?

The candles went out.

Feet singe the carpet outside the door.

Once again, I'm tickled black.

The shadows creep, the darkness plunders.

No one is there.

Mind agitation; sleeps glares down the clock.

Hear the cry, the eyes awake.

Crisp and young, they sense a being.

A frail hand hugs a tender ****.

Not a soul to speak.

The darkness laughs! But behold, a sound.

He's cowers. His mistakes, ascertained.

Begging for mercy, but too late is it now.

The feet smell the patter of the rain.

"Forewarned.", snarled the storm.

And the water cooed her subjects into the abyss of sweet slumber...

Solid as they come, but lest we forget.

Liquid from the start, time begins its work.

So inept, so naive.

Mixing and sloshing around.

The heavy concoction we know best.

Day and night, the clock turns round.

Sitting still, the heart is born.

“Magnificent!”, they all applaud.

The monument only awaits recognition and acceptance.

And then they leave, no need to stay.

Forever the heart will be. For it is, concrete.

The weather speaks, and the heart sits still.

Disasters fall, and the heart remains intact.

Chips ambient the sides. Residue conforms.

The heart sits still. It has nothing to utter.

For it is concrete.

As much as it stands, it will never be loved.

As much as one paints, to cover in blood.

The concrete still stands.

And says nothing at all.

Alone, the wind gently comes, grazing the sides.

What the wind blows, the heart never replies.

Vanished plans.
Words left unsaid.
Emotions out to dry.
People distracted.
Stand, without eyes or mouth.
Listen to what we see.
Imagine the truth.
Breathe the life.