Broken Brain

Freeverse

Reflected light is shimmering here,

finding me floundering in my fluff,

gazing at this shattered glass

as I dance, dance away, away.

I cut my bare toes - 

sixty steps to the minute,

those sixty seconds, sixty seconds:

click-click, tick-tock, bop-bop.

Your shine dims like a dull, dull dime

in my battered brain, seeing the blood

on my toes, as they dance, prance

on the shattered shimmering glass.

A battered brain is shapeless stuff

that lets me flounder in my fluff.

The shattered brain sees shattered glass.

They'll take this tumour away.

Will humour return, humanity remain,

once I've danced, pranced

for those surgical folk in masks

who'll take knives to my brain?

(6/7.02.23)

Reviews

[Chris Shaw]

Brain surgery is what registered here more than the shattered glass. Both though gave me images of sharps and blood spill. Shattered glass in sunlight can give much beauty but I didn’t find that here. I found fear. I would fear brain surgery and your final stanza gives reasons. Well penned.

Chris

[Andrew John]

Thank you so much, Chris.