How many half-wits does it take to screw on my brain? Apparently three on new year’s eve Add some alcoholic flavour and speed up my own inner moron Wait for it, wait for it, tick tock, tick tock Someone got a call, someone else got a call at that godforsaken hour I placed twenty empty buckets under my bed One for my insides screaming to get out from the utter disgust The others for my bittersweet tears Wait for it, wait for it, tick tock, tick tock First sign is twenty odd hours of transformation into a zombie Brain’s not back in place yet, but the useless substance that replaced it for a while has been sucked out Now the emptiness is painful and not very pretty to look at Second sign, the buckets are still empty The three happy half-wits have danced away into the sunset I’m left in silence and loneliness Yes... wait for it, tick tock Nothing. I take a shower just to remind myself of the feeling of  water running down my face. Nope. Nothing. Dry. Still empty. Release a calm reaction from a distance. Quite angry, yes. Still shocked, I’d say. Still can’t sense my brain on Day Two. Still a little Dawn of the Dead-ish. Final phase is on its way. Trying to find the corners of my skull. Fitting that little brain back in. Tricky, tricky. Still no tears. Still no puke. Huh. And there’s one goodbye said without a tremble. There he goes. Out of my life. What was the fuss? Now, WHAT did I write?? Nah, that was the zombie. The words I should’ve written, he would’ve preferred to put in his pipe and smoke. Take care. Peace. Over and out. Twat. They say: “let it all out”. The buckets are still under the bed. But they’re in my way and I’m thinking I’ll dump them in the container outside. I’m thinking: “hey, now let it all out! It’s good advice, you know”. Nothing. We can still be friends, he says. The half-wit. And now that my brain’s screwed back on things seem weird. They’re quite clear. The things I ached for and loved, look very twisted and plain. And I say “Nay, let’s not”. As if being just friends would have made anything less ugly. Ticker message clear as a Times Square ad, flashing and screaming. Was it there before? That was actually my first concern, I say. You screwed me as a friend. No, I don’t. Cause I can’t be bothered. Peace. Take care. Is all I can say and then the words have fled. Nothing more to say. Pointless. Why waste your time explaining to a half-wit, my screwed-ON brain says. And my brain goes: do, do-do, do-do, do-do-do-doo...