Things Poetic

 Brain My brain isn’t an intricate, super intelligent machine It’s not something anyone else has, it would seem It’s my broken and confused thing in my head That will stop when i am dead Until then its mine, and i know it, and its sometimes crazy It gets confused, It stumbles It glitches But usually there when its needed But, yes,  its mine

 Living...dying just a breath, separating them look left, live look right, death walk expectantly, clockwork movements repeat themselves when does life become...non life is there a switch when Gaia turns it off cells stop their replication, ATP stops being broken down, the spark stops,  is extinguished which step is the last ?