BRAIN DAMAGE

A beautiful day and she’s right. She’s missing part of her brain. Words appear, disappear unambiguously. Trespassers. I was wondering when you’d get here. You look just like your mother. In other news, Scott is having an affair. I never liked his stillness. Words leak out, so I spend the day closed up, cancel my travel plans. It must be miserable, trying so hard. Should I come home with you? Start a religion. Her stomach aches from sucking in, she's seeing things. Like reformed emptiness. Epileptic weather patterns tap the windows, slightly. Go fish. I’ve got my theories. The memory of all my disappointments. The image of my head blowing off. The prognosis is solitude.