This doesn’t seem to be working right,
This thing I call my body.
Bits and pieces
That are supposed to follow orders
Are acting as if
They’ve suddenly fallen illiterate.
My hands twitch guiltily.
My lungs shut their doors.
My heart illegally downloads the latest techno remix
And tries to choreograph a dance to keep with the beat.
But maybe it’s the general who should be taking the blame-
A mind that can’t seem to focus on the literal
The exact
The real
And instead fills it’s time watching movies by dead directors
With soundtracks in upside down languages
Either way
No one is performing up to par
Maybe I should hand them their two weeks notice.
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