Hi guys, this is a quick poem I came up with last night called Brain Stew, I was constantly writing until now, I know it's not the best, but at the moment I like it for what it is. I want to see what y'all might interpret it as and see if we have the same thoughts on it, well that's all for now, sincerely, LT.
Everyday I feel my brain filling with rot, and I can't say a word without stirring the pot. My mind is a mess and in constant turmoil, and I'm damned if I do or don't causing me to not know where to turn to. Constantly pivoting like I'm on a swivel, and causing my mind to crash like a speeding boat into the side of a foggy bank. I have this lost feeling that I can't seem to place, I'm choking on my words because my head's in a haze. Always feeling sick, and trying to suppress my rage, I start to spill my guts like an actor on a stage. The pot starts to boil over, the flames licking at the side desperate to cause an uproar. Pacing in my mind as the flame gets higher, not knowing what to say to put out the fire. In front of me are two gas cans, except one is empty, the other full of gas and no matter what I choose the fumes will fuel the blast. My brain has turned to stew, and there's nothing left inside, so instead of choosing one or the other I'd rather not decide. The flames continued to roar with the pot still spewing, I sit here in my mind not knowing what I'm doing. My head is spinning in circles like cogwheels in a clock, the queasiness returns, as I pray for it to stop. My anxiety is raging, and the queasiness gets worse, my head starts to pound and feels like its going to burst. Now my brain has turned to stew and with nothing left to say, I close my eyes, trying to rest, and hopeful for better days.
YOU ARE READING
Brain Stew
Short Story!!DISCLAIMER!! THIS BOOK MAY CONTAIN SOME TRIGGERING CONTENT, IF YOU ARE SENSITIVE OR EASILY TRIGGERED DON'T READ THE STORIES LABELED AS "TRIGGER WARNING" or "SENSITIVE CONTENT" Thank y'all for understanding. Just a book filled with my poetry, sho...
