There is a miniature man
inside my skull
tap-dancing
on my corpus callosum
to the beat of blood vessels
wrapped tight around my temples.
He is tempting my brain
to split
and let each hemisphere fend for itself.
They’re always arguing anyway.
Feel this!
No, do that!
I can’t bear to hear them bicker anymore.
So maybe the man is right.
I will compartmentalize
each reality I realize
and access only one axiom at a time.
Contradictory beliefs,
you are no longer allowed to cross paths
or even approach the bridge
to leave change
for our resident street-artist tap-dancer in-training.
He will starve to death eventually,
without your handouts
and propaganda.
It sounds cruel,
but it’s just self-defense.
I can’t find peace
in pieces.