The marbles in my brain
Are tossed and churned relentlessly
Though despite all the noise they make
Crashing about this way and that,
And the magnificent headache it has spawned,
This body lies awake
In fevered reality
With an endless pounding between its ears
A cold rush of life essence being continuously pumping through the empty yards of veins within.
I wonder where I end and it begins.
The roaring between these ears is loud.
So much I'm convinced that its heart
Is where its brain should be.
But hasn't it ironically always felt that way..?
And yet again I'm exhausted so profoundly
On a level of existence that even sleep can't fix.