We are playing

ping-pong

of the signals

my pain and I

in the arena

of my brain.

I am bombing it

with words

and electro signals,

music and visuals,

to make a traffic jam

of stimulants and information.

It has a worthy opponent

which has a plan B

if it’s needed.

The poetry sharp

as a word abrupt

to which there is

no valid replica

or any answer

in the form of pain.

To which the resistance

is pointless

because it is formed

of the same.