Glitch

My brain has a glitch,
an imperfection.
The circuit board is fried.
Ashes linger, particles
of acidic mayhem forcing
my limbs to contort, twitch —
my body no longer mine.
Control a seven-letter word
with no meaning, yet seven
is perfect, complete, whole
unlike my brain which once
belonged to me but now
is forced to obey a new law,
discord, chaos —
my brain has a glitch.

© 2023 Rena Aliston. All rights reserved.