Mouse's Brain (should die)

Uptight, edgy, like a cornered animal with nowhere else to go. My natural state of being no how much I try to alter it. Always paranoid, predicting calamity and judgement day. I figured out the coffee's not blame for me being jittery and jumping out of my skin every time a door slams. No, it's something more. Deep in the inner working of my brain some gear isn't functioning properly, like a badly wound clock that perpetually chimes the wrong hour. What is wrong with me? Why must I lie awake at night and ponder the fears tomorrow brings? Day after day, I dance around like mad with a swollen bladder that threatens to explode, weighing the pros and cons of using the dreaded Public Restroom. In the end, I wait. I always wait, somehow concluding it will become less scary in a few hours when I am truly desperate. When I was a little kid, my mother would watch me hop around while performing the rituals of the pee-pee dance. The she'd proceed to yell "You know your going to give yourself a bladder infection, don't cha? She was right. I did. Mother's always seem to be right. Mine never seemed to understand the dangers I saw lurking behind every corner. Or why I stood paralyzed in indecisive fear because I had already consulted the endless list of scenarios in the given situation and all of them ended with me getting judged or yelled at.My fears are like tree roots burrowing deep into the soil of everyday life
and soaking up nutrients in the form of social situations. They root me in the past, denying the future. One of my biggest fears is that no one will understand my fears and help me overcome them. I will talk to the shrink as I promised. And when I speak, the words leaving my mouth will never reach her ears. They'll be sucked into some dry, cold, infinite vortex in the space between us. My words will turn into worthless jetsam drifting out an eternity in between ocean waves. You can probably tell by now that my analogies are as endless and rambling as my fears. I guess the reason I'm writing this piece is to allow myself to step back and laugh at a lifetime of fear.
Although they're are quite real to me, from an outside perspective they might seem silly and meaningless. A part of me is hoping that writing about it with the lead of this pencil will write away my fears, and this eraser will erase the possibility of being diagnosed as as beyond help, being told I'm crazy and nothing can be done for me. MAYBE.

Crystal fire

This is how it could start
The event that could tear your life apart
Here's the story
It will give you reason to worry
A friend of mine
His life was fine
Until he hung out with the wrong crowd
The voice saying bad idea was loud
He picked up meth
There's a reason it rhymes with death
One of the many who turned to dope
Because he could not cope
An amazing poet
Who could no longer show it
His brain turned to paste
Oh my god! What an awful waste!
His heads was full of words
Floatin free as a bird
But he had ta take it and toke
Filling his body with smoke
By the time he tried to stop
His life was already a flop
Continually wired
Off that crystal fire
He killed all the brillant ideas in head
Stomped em' till all were dead
Now his genius can't show
He chose not to say no
The light in his eyes grew dim
His future looked very grim
Learning to steal
So he'd always have drugs to deal
It took his teeth
Filled his friends with grief
He couldn't do the math
And learn to walk down the right path
The end result from this is he's sorely missed
Lying dead in a pauper's grave
All due to a craving he could not stave
This drug will steal your soul
It all begins with one bowl
I can only only pray
That you don't learn the hard way
Understand this lesson
With drugs don't be messin'
I hope these words you'll take to heart, my friend
The tale is told and now this poem is at its end

The true story of Humpty Dumpty

I am humpty dupty
I sat on a wall
A pair of hands reached out and shoved me
I had a great fall
It was no accident- I was pushed
And now I lie
My yolk brain splattered on the wall
My egg shell body smashed
Trampled on by the feet of careless passerbys
And all the shrink's pill and the shrink's pschoanalysis
Will never be able to put humpty dumpty together again

Pigeon Man

I have always wondered what it is like
to sit on brick throug sun, sleet, and snow
As the pigeon man does
His browned dreadlocks cascading down his back
Caring for those no else cares about
He feeds with seed the 'dirty city pigeons'
That pecks crumbs of wisdom fro his open course hands
Amongst the hustle and bustle of technolgy
Cars honking horns at people immersed in cell phone conversation around him
No one pays attention to the suburbanized piegons in their path
Many that do pause to kick at them
But I stop and sit next to those others shun
I could venture down the street and trade a wad of bills and brain cells
For some hits and forget it all
But today I feel like remembering
I will glean seeds of thought from the pigeon man
I'll learn what it is like to the save the life of crippled birds
And the value to be found in sitting amongst
An I will ask the pigeons what it is like to search the soul of man and find beauty

Drink

The idiot twirls on the leather stool
He knows to well of life and loss
He is the fly
His drink, the spider
Trapping men in its web
Slowly sucking life blood from them
Their only friend, their greatest vice
And therein lies their misery
hating the next drink
But paying for it anyway
Not with green wrinkled paper
But with their soul and potential
The fool stumbles off the stool
Muttering curses at the world
He trips and falls
Drenches himself in sticky beer
He comes to lie prone, inert on the floor
The next thing covering is a white sheet
In life, every action has a consequence
If you decide to take the drink
It will turn around and take YOU!

Brain Fuel

Boredom buzzes in my brain
It arrives unannounced
The devil disguised
In a black cloak
My brain is starved
Starved for the need of knowledge
But not getting a crumb of thought
What is there to do when one drops into a black hole of nothing?
A black sucking vortex of nothing
Nothing to be created
Except this poem
A small log of fuel
For a brain that demands much
Hungering for the want of learning
Ever curious it needs to understand
Understand the unknowable and unattainable
Therein lies its fault
Nothing fed it is enough
A blood thirsty beast
Wanting to suck truth and falsities
From the teat of libraries
Addicted to reading
A junkie craving its fix
This is what my mind has been like
And always will be
Searching for a kernel of info
Seeking to crack it open
And reach the rich meat inside
Continuing all my life
Only ceasing when the last breath leaves my body

DO NOT

DO NOT what?
Who are you to tell me what I can and can not do? From birth I have catergorized and put myself behind a fence. The burgundy red letters have glared at me, patronized me
and told me I was nothing.I DO NOT want to listen to that voice anymore. I chose to take back the word DO NOT and turn it into something positive. I am allowing myself to decide my fate. You DO NOT have control over me now, and forever. In wintertime I pace back and forth besides the chain link fence and the sign until I witness the promising buds of spring. Before that time comes, I watch the geese migrating and long to cast off the shackles of DO NOT as they do and fly away to freedom. I DO! And so I shall. Goodbye DO NOT! I am forever free from you and your guilded cage. Your voice is fading in my head, and soon I will no longer remember your existence.