Analysis of Dead Head

Not feeling great today.

Bones are grinding force
against my blood pulse.
My brain
a bundled bag of synoptic sacs
or are they nerves
neurons
and neuroses?

Feels more like a floating fog,
creeping red down angered walls.
Tickling.

Mop up the juice
of my crushed horticulture.
Prune the hairs on the dolls head.
She does not cry, only looks,
glassy eyes lead to frozen smile
and broken plastic skin.