Back Up Brain

Back up brain,

back up brain,

drive me down those curvy creepy roads

away from these haunted humans

spitting and fitting

their sick stories

into my face

as if it wouldn’t

effect me.

And in the end times,

old souls were

put on trial

for all humanity’s war crimes

because we had seen it all

in our prophetic heads and thus

found compliant,

and the ones who acted their violence out

were free to walk the planet.

Ain’t that always the way?

We tried to warn you,

and even still remembered your pathetic names,

the ones who splattered blood on the pavement,

and whose teeth clattered,

crunched and gnawed

at the bones

of their own ancestors.

They drank gasoline in the dirt

instead of

shouting out the wrongs of the world,

got fucked up in the marshy mire,

under the ground,

in the water,

and left the world to rot

in their wake.