My head hurts from the horns outside

from the rage on the road

from the rage

inside

fruit flies are buzzing around my head

eating rotten fruit, I haven’t taken to the curb

My brains will rest some day

in pieces

sunk into the ground

nurturing the minds

of deviant roots

shooting out of the soil

from some unknown

creative compost

the pain of change

is a headache

and don’t take drugs

but hold your head in your hands

and offer it to someone else.