I Talk to my Brain
A Poetic Look at a Troubled Relationship
My brain and I
are frequently not on speaking terms
My brain thinks things
that I wish it didn’t
My brain does not seem
to like me much
My brain returns me
to memories I’d rather forget,
memories that no amount of therapy
or medication can compel
into a blissful sleep
My brain wishes to talk to me
at times that are inconvenient to me,
like the hours before dawn
when I should be sleeping
I don’t understand this
since according to my reading
my brain benefits from a good night’s sleep
Nevertheless,
this seems to be the time
when my brain wants to punish me
for my life lived thus far
Perhaps it is because
in these early hours
I am most vulnerable to psychic pain
I seem to be a passenger in a brain
deformed and beaten by trauma
and petty self-interest
I’d like to think
I’m better than my brain
gives me credit for
Poor fellow,
my brain
I’d like to hold him in my arms
and say ‘There, there, it will be alright’
And he would sleep at last
