my brain is made of plastic-
non porous and non conforming yet time and again melted like a surrealist painting, oozing through and out and every which way just to be dried again by under stimulation
a post lysergic reaction like air to resin
hardening uninhibited to preserve what notions might have been left behind in a snail’s trail
a brain, or just weird flesh yearning for a chemistry book and a lesson in shape shifting?