What Comes Next

and then some thoughts, object of want
humming quietly to
collective cognitive rot
from a mind askew
distant, it meshes well too
with diagnosis they like to call brain spots

and then the drone
no longer alone
when voices refuse to be processed
lending reason to observe-happy alone
__________________________lorn in a crowd
friends brush off scattered expressions as you

and then a need
to an end, no means
fixation takes root in the lewd folds upstairs
and so they ask to plant childhood traumas
you decline explaining funds do not permit
another time perhaps
something else in mind

and then the kill
chemically subdued
mind hangs a sign-"out to lunch, be back soon"
and a sigh escapes a long overdue catatonic look
as thoughts drift to no longer wondering what comes next