My brain tells me go, go, go. Not anywhere important or good. No, it wants to go down, far down beneath the earth and soil into the magma.
My brain wants incineration. So much so that sometimes it’s like it’s already gone. And I’m just a partially functioning case of skin with some trembling bones.
My brain is okay with abandoning me. It dreams of solace in nothingness. And then I am left with agony in nothingness.
Except I can’t properly feel it. I’d rather feel it. I’d rather it steal the breath from my lungs, claw at my vacant eyes, and bend my ribs one by one than just hover there around me and let nothing in, nothing out.
My brain takes everything for itself and then destroys it all.
And leaves me with just me. Standing here. Sitting here. Lying here. Typing on my phone like it’ll pop the bubble and I can feel again. Like my words are so exceptional they’ll recreate real things once stolen from me just by writing them down.
Funny, I’m funny. At least I can still laugh without my brain. Even if it’s at myself.