An ocean of iron(y) in my brain— Coursing, rushing, flooding veins Neuropsychologists inside my head I think they think my brain is dead Are they correct? Can they be right? Have my once strong waves Given up this fight? I did I did I did— I did flee from memory— I never had wings so I fluttered, searching in the ether— There was nothing Nothing I could trust Nowhere for me to cling Sprinkled on the ground: an infinity of waves and fire and sound Under, beneath— I saw loss I saw nothing No-one I searched—for a way back to: my world my life my son. Like time— my blood moves slowly then shoos me But memories are bullets– shooting, blasting, missing— My brain is empty still so heavy So much weight behind this levee Each hour becomes more unclear Who is this person in this mirror? Girl, woman, old lady? I don’t know I don’t fucking now I think I’m, now— The American psycho.
Michelle O’Kane 