POETRY

From not remembering when
To not noticing how
My brain is being infected
With viruses just like a computer.
But a computer has no soul
Suffer no scars.

The made-for- me conscience weighed on me for years
The made-for-me consciousness weighed on me for years
I scrubbed and scrubbed them for years
Trying to wash away all the made-for-me colors and shapes
And virtues.

Until I felt like a new born--uncontaminated
Like an emerging cloud--uncontaminated
I cried  tears of joy
Like a cloud
Appeared, disappeared, and reappeared
Like a cloud
Each time as fresh as the first sunrise