the dissection of the mind
caught in fits of near madness
crossed with absolute silence
so much work to be done
there is a hole in the backyard already
for all his bad habits four quarters
not even an actual bill
all that’s left of his mind
the setting sun helping him fight
the temptation to waste more time
and money when it’s all smoke and mirrors
no book has had this many pages
and taken this long to fill
so impermanent he desires to bury
this with all the bad habits in the backyard
this dissection will be the final verse
in this black leather song book of thought
and things that clutter his mind
delusional and struggling and most likely
refueling off the anger it creates
and despair he fends off like a soldier
captured learns to accept and expect
death so far passed fear
dissected with these thoughts
and he presses on his eyes
until all the right colors appear
again as if they never left
cluttering this mind like hair
growing inward prescribed pills
so he isn’t sad how sad is that
it’s come to this
out of so much potential they said
too bad he couldn’t have poked his head
through into the light of a more positive day
the dissection of this mind might get messy
and might expose ideas once thoughts obsolete
might split the mind into four call the quarters
and bury them in the sand let the ocean take
it all away to reveal the truth lies deep beneath
the dissection of this mind
this heart implodes while riding an emotional
roller coaster he spoke of twelve years ago
sidewalk sitting stirring a thought on the street
with chalk outlining the section of the mind
dying below all the smoke clouding up
what is already imperfect
the dissection might take hundreds of volumes
if he’s got enough time
and stays out of trouble long enough
the dissection continues on an empty stomach
growling calling for food by name
and he answers but it might be too late
too old too bad and he begins to draw
the blade in a straight line
down a certain train of thought continuing
the dissection uncovers thought buried
two years ago in a book he forgot he had
searching through his past he has got to find
his future clear the cloudiness he has created
wasting nothing but money which
is the root of all that is evil
all his sadness stuck here in thoughts
of diminishing funds
and strength to carry on as always
not so tall but he could take a punch
or two from a fairly large man if he had to
washing his own clothes on his own time
best friend’s no show sealed his day of solitude
at his desk at last full of thought
and there is no one around
just his luck maybe he will take his shoes off
for the next portion of the dissection
of this mind he is peering out the window
no neighbors to be seen
just him and some thought
some April afternoon
and suddenly the hunger came back again
who could’ve known he still would be here
as darkness and clouds roll over a sun filled day
dissecting the mind splitting it into pieces
he needs to deal with separately
at first if necessary never getting to see sunrise
unless he is working what a pity
even though it still looks pretty
tired no matter what the day brings
him plenty of thought
to get by on plenty of extra
if you don’t mind dissecting the mind
if you have the time
to spare or remotely care
to take a look to the interior
thought warrior with the ceiling
pressing hard from above
he draws a map as he dissects
what is left to write
phone call to break up the monotony
of this day ending in darkness
and he stays up just to see who might call
if anyone at all
the dissecting mind disperses and ends up
appearing in the strangest places
forget what you have been told
where are all the pictures he spoke so highly
in high places giving respect to the most high
absolutely no idea how but he knows
now is the time for the biggest change of his life
the dissection of the mind is terrible
it will give him the blues even if
he is standing knee deep in green
and what does he mean
maybe dissection is merely a reader screen
who will get through and who will stop
short of finishing the thought or book
someone will look and see him stronger
than ever others will see him struggle
like never before to bury the bastards
deep in two holes way out back
in the yard he buys a piece once a month
until he owns it all and he still feels
he inherited some sort of fortune even though
he can’t find the hidden treasure
anywhere he looks buried deep in the debris
the thoughts he thought he forgot
not disregarded just left to be until
this dissection complete
for the night possibly longer…
