There are so many fissures in my brain
Asking for clearance, so many fixtures
Asking for guidance, crevices to dig out of,
gullies too spooky my name with.
My brain is a story I tell over & over again
Repeating my name with different syllables each time.
The stories we tell, our reality.
Many of mine are stuck, in cracks, wedged deep into the past
Of repeat, repeat, repeat
& sometimes you just want to Jump UP
Over the cliff and say fuck it.
Walk away & save falling, for another day.
Flying past levitation I meditate
To observe the patterns I have etched into this stone surface
Except it’s not stone
& though nerves may fail and die from lack of connection
& heart attacks cause exhaustion from repeated exposure
neural pathways ARE alive, re-forgeable and plastic
This is more like a garden we grow
Each time we open our eyes,
Open our hands
with roots that can be re-grafted, removed, and transplanted
there’s a reason we bleed.
Copyright Adrienne Adams October 29th 2015