My heart is more mature
than my brain..
My HEART:- What's the cause of it's more maturity ?
- "I overcome oceans with tyrant waves "
(my heart reply)
My BRAIN:- What's the cause of it's immaturity?
- It never think to step out of its barrier ..
(I replied)

my brain is dead.
i cant think straight
my head is blank.
i cant do stuff.

i am an idiot sometimes.
what have i done?
why did i eat that
gross almond joy?

facepalm.

The parrot has 3 billion neurons in its brain
We have 86 billion
And most of mine are busy
forming unhelpful pathways
Misleading my good intentions.
Still, 3 billion neurons
seems like enough room for a few
unruly pathways


The parrot can repeat phrases
Which we thought to be
pretty cool
So we trapped him
and put him in a cage
And in our living rooms
Alone


The parrot knows how to survive happily
Within his world
Within his world, with 30 others of his kind
And a partner for life.
In his world
he would fly with his flock
To trees to pick fresh fruit
Now he perches on his own
And picks dry fruit out of a bowl.
In his world
he would prune his partners feathers
He would look after her
And she him
Now he perches on his own
And prunes his feathers
until there are none left.


Its an unhelpful neuro pathway, you see?
Some form of OCD?
Maybe its a way to cope?
Maybe its the brain spiralling
Trying to figure out what to do
Because it can't be a parrot anymore
It has to learn to be a toy
A talking point
And the parrot doesn't know how to be that
He only knows how to be a parrot

so many words in my head
all trapped in the depths of my brain
that no soul will ever explore

-  manipulating and twisting your tongue
spinning the head like a frisbee,  
from heavy big words  -  teeth are falling,
falling from the mouth on the asphalt,
-  the lips are cracking, and bleeding  -  burning like gasoline,
-  shrinking shrimps disgusted by the sophistication
of the simple words  acting big,  
-  eyes are popping out from the orbits,
leaving two question marks,  
-  ears  - oh - poor ears, falling down on the shoulders,
too many words to carry on,
-  the skin is not happy either -
squeezing the over expired botox, 

 -  too many words are in power,
hitting the brain, - hitting the brain.

A sliver of sun scorching cerebrum
Whispers on the lips of an encephalic cloud
An old friend, whose company I keep
Warning against silhouettes and uncertain peril
Liberation is nigh from a skeletal prison
Beating on my skull and tearing at my muscle
I fear my old friend will return
As a siren, luring me to the bottom of a macabre sea

imagination cannot be contained
with your fingertip
trace the border of the trees against the sky
now see the clouds behind
and make them mountains in your mind