Remember when we say we can never step into the same river twice we acknowledge neither the river or ourselves, are the same changing every moment of every day.
My brain has come, is coming, will come apart any moment since I was poisoned by an “addictionist” last July 19. I know, I say, our brains change faster than we can say, every day, just the same, once you’ve had a near death experience the changes are formidable. Course I fail the drawing test, (always have, always will) though I’m as smart as Donald so people tell me I’m all right Jack. Richard? What did I say my name was? I am trying to pass my writing off as Victuresque to make it m0re suitable for the tenor of our times giving it quaint overtones, or undertones (a great English punk band my wife tells me). But this week my friends and I know you are out there, I am coming apart. I am writing a poem about confabulations where I insist I have done something, but am shown I have not. The river thing is too acne owl edge that my brain may be and unsteady platform, ever since it hit the brick wall in our basement when I was six months old, but but since I was poisoned by Dr. Neufeld an addictionist trying to switch with me from Oxyneo, a lope ioid to Methadone to manage my chronic severe pain due to osteo-arthritis, last summer my brain is ridiculously torn and frayed (remember them?) and several days or weeks a year it seems to come apart. Leaving me twitching in tears, unless I can come to the page, but the best way I can show you is to have you listen, here. To this. LET IT RIP!!!
Here is where the sound goes
Here is where the sound goes.
Here my brain coming apart.