The Dying Brain Poem by Benjamin Chiu Uy

The Dying Brain


A page bloodily torn, mind,
Goes berserk with knowledge,

Of late the body is a mesh's of off transmissions,
An overlaid overloads for the worker,

What goes unannounced,
must be the tracings of the bullet,

A page torn from the book of sunsets,

A directionless map to follow,
Trying to get inside you,

Still this car has a minutefull tank of live gasoline,
The progressing roadsannouncing a new city,

An aero plane on the buoyant wind descending,
A temple of birds flapping away,

A life that'll be left and right for the world after thedark songs,
I lie with this sensitive body feeling the beauty of submission,

As it hold me in the cradle of his sensation.
And still love me as his foreign child.

Taking me east, west, and wherever this direction tries to follow,

The now simplifying the process,