Well, It Is MY Brain-Blob

The happy cheers of dementia
Wicked, little imp,
Draining my brain-pan
Head's dripping limp--
Go away and drain
Another drop of reality
From the other insane
[ Resulting in creativity ].

Leave this mind alone
Wretched, tiny imp,
Haven't too much longer
Before rationality slips--
Go on and pry open
Another head of mush,
Take out the filling
Let the rest lie flush.

No one living here, anymore
Thwarted, puny imp,
Brain-blob's all very gone
Off another you must pimp--
Look here, see for yourself
Nothing but dust and pores:
All the books off this shelf,
No apple left in the core.

Go on to Leaves

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