Whether you wanted to leave or not,
I am indifferent.
Whether you painted my dreams in oil,
I am indifferent.
Maybe it was my shyness to love
Or eagerness to forget.
These neurons seem to misfire.
My heart doesn’t pump blood that way anymore.
It refuses to beat for anyone.
It is indifferent.
The only sound it cares about are the coyotes at night.
My ravenous hunger for pixelated flesh,
And spiritual adventures with cherry cola.
Imagine being in a waking world filled with stolen dream objects.
Imagine being indifferent to dreams.
Observing myself beyond my body
My circadian rhythm is bizzare and I prefer to be deprived of sleep.
My brain function is altered by chemical substances.
I’ve taken part in revolutions and my head seperates itself.
It wants red velvet cake or to be thrown into the sea.
To be forgotten
To become indifferent to,
It could all mean something.
And yet I know it doesn’t.
(c) A.R. Minhas 2020
