Blank
My brain feels empty
No, not the controlled completeness
Of a meditative Nirvana,
not a willful release from the the triviality of life
nor a vegetative state or
a tragedy robbing he fuel of a blazing star
It is not still nor quiet
Connections constantly buzzing
& blaring
& reminding me that
I'm blank
These same cells
rest in the heads of hallowed virtuosos
They build empires
dictate masterpieces
and guide fulfillment
Theey prove purpose, provide wonder
And I wonder
why not me?
Where is my new perspective
a view of a world better
by my own hand
Why is a future foggy
not full
of success and improvement
is this a fault of my cells
or myself
Where does bare bones biology
end, and
my blank essence begin?