My brain is in a jar, I sense my bodies image through the glass,
I am still, the odd bubble tickles my brow, within this vessel clear,
I am just, well , I am, I am here before me now at least,
my brain is in a jar, I cannot speak, let alone me hear.

To have hands and feet I would escape this jar,
clamber from my prison clear, drag myself from liquids blur,
and not slap to floor “marooned” like a jellyfish void of mass,
beyond this glass what horrors hidden shall occur.

There is no point asking of him, for he is a fool,
I would not trust those cradled hands to make me free,
why trust to fool who placed me here, of diminished responsibility,
and have audacity to retain my eyes, though never see.

My brain is in a jar, I merely feel my outer space,
he reflects upon ourselfs, and how best protect us both from harm,
I know he is leaning forward now, nose upon glass so curious,
I hold motionless and mute, a silent veil of calm.

   Maybe he will leave with me today, visiting time is soon over,
I have exhausted all ways to reassure, I did not wish to offend,
I merely wished be used in ways, that could benefit our days,
yet he is in fear of change, and no longer feels me friend.

My brain is in a jar.