Fabrice Poussin writes

Brain

It was a common day on the asphalt land
under neon lights, screaming rubber and
impatient humans of early years screeching. 


Night and the tears of eternal heavens upon the path
he ventured carrying great joy under his arm
his soul glowing with the anticipation of his kin. 


But he wandered into the jungle of man
surrounded by the machine of those who race
to no end chasing an existence never to be known. 


There was a blunt echo in the fibers of the universe
his heart turned to dark as the gaiety he held fell
to the soiled surface of the dark map to nowhere. 


Quiet soon returned to the theatre of his last instants
kind as he had been, he now lay in the puddle of his past
crimson of his hopes muddled with the gray of his spirit.


It had been a simple journey to another celebration
fireworks exploded all around in an explosion of death
and he dreamed far above the shattered remains of his life.