| Neo Low |
| Poetry by Mike Monroe |
| Zero In sights set on indecision brain haze on overdrive buzz in mind like fireflies swishy headache eyes slosh like goldfish in a bowl bearings set straight legs moving towards the next obstacle in this boxing bout life Static white fuzz on the television screen salt and pepper scratching sounds salt and pepper like my hair static machine gun army fist slams into black plastic Suicide Life he lies in bed next to the silhouette of nobody arms once held crumpled quilt fetal position womb memories he pours coffee scent like water on wilting flowers faint window light shines through blinds on the ash spots on the rug he turns the key engine starts up and purrs light and beep announces subtle problem headlights cut through morning darkness he sits down in front of wavering screen lost in a fragment of time fingers pressing plastic without purpose he reclines lazily television static fuzzy headache pills bring the curtains down after the day�s performance in an empty theater Soul Fire blaze life crimson you stagger into the room burning blood strain you see the man you want clinching teeth brightness you take him home tonight sun flare energy you leave him in the morning Changing Channels new toys make children happy sad faces need food in desert shaking bodies need clothing in winter lonely eyes need love in the night running police need to catch criminal burning building needs fire department massive spaceship needs fuel murdered teen needs gravestone Brain Surgery you put the scalpel to your head pull streaks of bloody skin slice neat cuts teary eyes become blank senses dull blackness enveloping blood drops obscure vision a bland smile numb and dumb Fiber Optic eyes open to rainbow excitement they�re all pointing guns of paranoia flashing colorful flower lights that will never end he runs from himself and ends up running into himself careening over himself a bowling ball out of control he tackles himself looks in the mirror and punches himself loses himself in his thoughts erases himself while cleansing himself he convinces himself that he still exists then puts himself to sleep Switch you pull the trigger reach for the switch when the plug is pulled lights go out without your expectation Empty Candle grey candlestick with no candle only a burnt up wick and a sprinkle of ash dripped white wax dried and solid sticks to the dull metal Still the statue sits surrounded by walls staring at whiteness with eyes that can�t see rocking with the breeze of autism Interdeath the page is not accessible is the message on the screen bland white with black letters no more pictures or animations hands sit still one clutching the plastic white mouse the other poised above the keyboard a faint blaze of rage dissipates and boredom settles down like morning dew as I contemplate my options to waste the time of life Zero Out eyes close with indecision as I wait patiently for sleep and its comfortable grey blanket the best way to move forward in time wrapped in a cocoon of numbness |