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Missing Brainchild

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It turns out that

I’m a prisoner of the white lights

in my mind.

It’s like my mind is covered in

lazy scabs.

Sometimes the wind whips

across the Great Plains

of my medulla oblongata.

Blow, wind, blow-

full of cold

rain and snow.

My thoughts are fleeting

like skittish coyotes,

trotting across the

information highway

in the early hours of the morning.

It’s almost like

gypsies steal my cognition

before the cogs even start

to turn.

Imagine that-

little mind gypsies.

I’m beginning to feel like

a recluse,

spending all my time

searching for my sanity.

Oh well

thoughts are

overrated anyways.

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