If I could dig out my brain with a spoon
Oh what wonders contained would fall
And if I had a spoon so large
Would I reach the muddy thoughts?

Would I throw out chunks of enlightenment
Along with the frothy, red phlegm of stupidity
Or could I pick….
Pick… Pick…
My nose and bring forth gold
Along with the brains I am told
Live inside, among the catacombs?

How empty it seems
An echo of civilized thought cries out

Oh yes, brains for a meal
How delicious a treat
With my spoon in my hand
Treasures unearthed among the deep
And would I find a hollowed out space
To be empty indeed
Or could I fill it with pudding?

For what else are the thoughts which man thinks
But pudding
Soft, and without substance
Meaningless jabber
Based on the ideals of idiocy…


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