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That Floating Brain

Sometimes I'm convinced I'm not people.
Just a floating brain that hijacked a
toddler's body twenty years ago.
We are still experiencing some technical difficulties.
This protean tongue gets scattered and struggles
against the pillars of silver fillings.
There's no room for real communication,
just words quickly fading past their expiration dates.
I'm sure there's a stone in the base of my spine,
because sometimes I can hardly feel your touch in my
sweaty palms.
And it's because my body and brain
cannot exist in the moment together.
It's one or the other.
It's not always my choice.
But then it's sensory overload and suddenly I'm
the greatest. Feeling. Feeling too good.
Like I'm smarter than everyone around
me and they're not worth a listen.
I know that's not the case.
I feel shame in my pride.
Silent in my shroud.

14 Sep 14

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