by Haley Gray

Created on: January 12, 2010

        Bendy-Brained

When I scratch the surface of my scalp
that's what makes the words come out.
Leaky parts inside my head.
The thoughts pool up,
they slosh about.

So mixed with normal, all the bad
I've lost what train of thought I'd had.
Can't think straight,
how will I know,
when other senses start to go?

Poor sloshy head,
poor twisty words,
poor whoever ends up me.
Won't be the same
without me here.
It might, in fact,
not even be.

That must be where the beauty lies,
in making all our skin so thin.
We have to know just who we are,
or lose ourselves to things within.
I'd rather not, but then again,
it's not the going,
it's the been.

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