#literarymedtech

[literary-med-tech]

Thoughts in My Head

There’s a thought in my head

Swirling a whirl as I lie in bed

Awake I am, asleep I’m not

Dreaming of the present—

But I’ll play pretend

Of living a life, of dying from truth

Gotta keep my head up, this setup

From a thinking of the random

To a process that leaks excess in tandem

But they don’t care, what am I showin’em’?

Except that I’m a problem

That I’m just robbin’em’

Of the rich, cause I betcha I’m poor

I betcha I’m sore

I betcha don’t know what I’m good for

So they’ll eliminate, discriminate

While I narrate, delineate

That we’re all portraying the living dead

But it don’t matter

I’m just a thought in your head

[literary-med-tech]

In the Confessional

It’s a box

Hidden in the corner

Of an abandoned church

The door is rusted

The chair is falling apart

The wall is strewn with scars

I sit

I listen—

I can almost hear the voices—

The voices of

The abandoned, the fallen, the scarred

Oh, how they confess

And how they scream

For the love of a god of this

Godforsaken box

That is hidden

In the corner

Of an abandoned church

[literary-med-tech]

Free Falling Failure

Sometimes I like to think of myself As a floating Feather as it falls glides to the ground

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Oh, but there are days, Days When the gales of wind are too tough, When the sun beats too harshly against my plume When the clouds rain and rain and rain on me

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And  I  f s  l i  o n  a k  t

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Those are the days when I wish That I had not been plucked free from The nestled warmth Of  Life  Itself