My mind is a menagerie of moments.
Each thought passes a baton to the next
Like never-ending relay runners circling,
Going around the grey-matter track in my head.
Leaping over hurdles of happy birthday,
They promenade before the throngs
Of mirror-image judges and juries
In this gallery of introspection.
Blatant truths hold no sway
Nor can they convey the Pollock painting
Superimposed over this portrait of Dorian Gray.
Come share my meal of glass and frass
Collected from broken memories of wooden statues
Carved to resemble every person
I’ve ever pretended to be.

Have we met?

Step inside this carnal carriage ride
And watch the world rush by,
Frame by frame,
In rotoscoping reality.

© Brandewulf 2018


  1. At one time in my life I worked in Department of Rehabilitation. Our office dealt only with those who were damaged by schizophrenia and/or other mental ills. Yes. It is moment by moment. We worked with these people, getting them jobs they could handle, until their illness made it impossible once again. When they came out of care, we worked with them again. It seemed like a never-ending cycle because there seemed no cure for schizophrenia only cycles where they could function and then non function. Some were only mildly affected. They were the lucky ones. Thank you for writing with such sensitivity about this very difficult topic.

    Liked by 1 person

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