The Hippy Hippy Shake

I can feel them. Everytime it gets cold they make themselves known. If I'm careless brushing my hair, their presence is felt. The plates and screws in my skull.

Like the feeling of getting up too fast, my conscious brain leaves me. I wake up to faces of panic. Confused and exhausted. Has someone just beat me up? Did I get hit by a train? No, just a seizure.

My body is racked with pain. I've peed myself again. I hear them talking, but it makes no sense to me. So very tired. My head is filled with white noise. I can taste the heaviness of blood.

Yes, I can hear and understand you. No, I don't want to get up, drink water, have a conversation, answer questions. Just let me be. Let me sleep. I've biten up my tongue and cheek. Ha ha.

How long did it last? Did I hurt anyone? Is everyone ok? Am I ok? Let me try to get up. The pain is unreal in my back. I am embarassed and humiliated by my own body. I need to change clothes.

This wasn't part of my life's plan. Brain tumor and brain surgery were never up for discussion. Seizures and a broken back were not on my bucket list of things to do before I die.

Ok. So this is me. Wonky brained, but oh what a personality. I wish I could've been left with some awesome new talent like telekenisis or something. Nope, just me, but with new subconscious dance moves.

Oh, and the damn plates and screws in my skull.

Nomoniker Was It's Name

There was an egg
it was a very pretty egg
all warm and comfy
the perfect place for it

It started out so tiny
undetectable if anything
it was nurtured
and it started to grow

This place was ideal
perfect supply of all it needed
hummed into life by a life
it was happy

The egg started growing
needing more space
it wriggled and pushed
and forced and demanded

Pulses and waves
movement and clutter
the sounds of impulses
breaking its home

It needed more
more of everything
as it grew stronger
it's home grew weaker

The pulses became tremors
their were times it felt starved
yet the little egg grew
wanting to be all encompassing

Then one day all went fuzzy
there were stirrings and knockings
there were strange voices
shiny sharp instruments

Soon the cutting started
ruining this perfect hideaway
no more nutients came
bright lights and eviction

Plopped into a acrid liquid
dissected into tiny pieces
smeared across glass
peered at through a microscope

Gone, but not forgotten
marks left behind
scars and plates and screws
the space left filling back in

Damn Aesop and His Fables

I watched him
in the cliche cafe
with my mispelt name on the side of my mocha latte
peering over my laptop
like a peeping Tom on a tree limb

His easy smile
stretched across his scraggly bearded face
his arm draped across the back of a chair
I hated that chair
wanted it to be me his arm was draped on

I swore his eyes caught mine
like a fly caught in a spider's web
I was locked in a memory
that never was
Or perhaps yet to be

Riding in a convertible
wind in our hair
him smiling with his arm draped across my back
laughing about the funniest things
destination unimportant

"PING!" notification from my mother
she wants to know if I can express her dog's anal glands
he likes to scoot his butt across her bed when they're full
Mr smiley beard gets up with his friend tossing away his cup
he turns, winks at the pretty barista, and walks away

My hair would've gotten knotted in a convertible
Bugs would've gotten in my teeth
my mocha latte would've ended up in my lap
or worse, in his lap causing him to wreck
his car and ruin his white linen pants

I pack up my laptop and head out
thinking how I dodged a bullet on that one
I need to control my sexiness or next time it might
cost some poor handsome bastard his life
I think I'll stop and get some grape juice on the way home