The Cerebral Whim

By Srijan

It seems some of my brain cells are dead,

or are in a cerebral whim.

Ay Forties! You start losing them cells,

this lapse is not the marbles of becoming old,

it is lapse of reality.

One excruciating inability.

Welcome to my world, I kept myself in isolation for years.

Desires and dreams died inside.

Pain and later death, seemed only friend.

I believed my sexual orientation has changed.

No green grass, only frozen ice. It’s not almost the same now.

My lapses of reason. Delusions and terrible hallucinations.

And it felt normal inside.

And niece and nephew call me ‘yo!’

But I grieve my cerebral grim.

Out of habit not ‘cos they are feeling like it,

they are too young to know what it means.

Some redemption is my call,

but cerebral whim causes a stir,

I am battling cognitive realities,

I have felt my vocal cord snatched.

It’s not that I can’t write at times,

Or my tongue twists when I am nervous,

I know that it has been worse inside.

By Srijan