Inside my head
is like a fish bowl.
There's something swimming around
adventuring
and looking for more
in that one cubic foot of liquid.
Its excreting disgust
and wide eyed
attempting to calculate
the world outside
seven seconds at a time.
There are other things in there
small sharp pebbles of shame
lining the bottom of my existence,
its bedrock.
A fake chest
full of fake treasure
letting out little bubbles of hope
to keep me distracted when ever I try to look out.
All these things seem to be deemed necessary
for one reason
or another
but what if they aren't.
What if I could just dump my fishbowl brain
out onto the counter
and watch my ambition
and courage
do a final death dance
flopping and gasping
in a pool of fake treasure
and little rocks of shame
surrounded by the chilly pool of my memories
on the malted surface of a linoleum counter.
They say the brain
takes fifteen minutes to die.
Could I only experience it
seven seconds
at a time?