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?

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