Beautiful Mind

I speak loud enough to
drown out
whatever noise
I was thinking.

And I repeat it
and repeat it
and repeat it
until
I fucking
believe it.

It’s not lying
I’m merely correcting myselt
scrubbing out these
falsifications
and replacing ‘em
with new
information.

I scream Jesus
you’re not
supposed to work
that way
I thought we got
everything tuned up
but now
I think there was a
warranty
and that I just
ran out of luck.

It rings
it rings.
My brain
don’t like
being inside of me
it begs to stretch
and to be free
saying
it’s dark and
claustrophobic.

I’ll spread it out
I’ll spread it out.

[Ethan Van Renen]

I realized one day
that I could never
get clean enough
be spread
thin enough
I said that to him
but I was looking
in the mirror
and his ears
my ears
were
in no distance
that they could hear

this piece
of advice.
My eyes
seemed to ponder
cleanliness
for the both of
us.

Though I knew
I’d always be
my only maid
and vacuuming would always
leave some
layer of dust
behind
this seems to be the
fault of
an intelligent
mind.

And for that
they thought they
loved me
but they couldn’t stand
how much time was
spent polishing
wiping
spitting
waxing.
They couldn’t stand it.

I thought I wiped
myself clean
years ago
but I think I
rubbed deeper crevices
to make
larger messes
and I yelled to
them,
“Don’t you just love
this beautiful mind?”

But really
we both hated
looking at it.

We were afraid
to catch
its disease
for it only knows
destruction
but you should see
the art it can
create
from those debris.

Those debris.

They will remind you
of what it looked like
when you were
growing up.

It was easier then
when dust bunnies
ran a muck
and then were
quickly shooed
away
by another’s hand.

How I wish they
taught me to
clean the messes
for I am only learning now
you must change the bags
or choke
on past lessons.

This is routine now
maybe obsessive
this could be
disorder
as I am ordering
all the messes
to stand in line.
Tell me
which one of you came first
by which order
do I make you
benign?

There is none.

I know.

These are false
accusations
of a mind
that only knows stillness
on thin lines

of life
and death.

How I’d like to say
I wouldn’t wish it on
another
but
I often do
don’t we all
when we wonder

Why me?
As if to say
this should be another’s
burden
to carry.

But we weren’t so lucky
this time around.
Dust pan in hand
rubber gloves
pulled to our elbows
on a good day
the dust bunnies
are nowhere to
be found.

How I’m nowhere
to be found

nowhere to be
found.