An Alzheimer's brain makes one wonder
About what and who we really are
What I mean is that I consider myself still me
If I lose a finger
Or a leg
Or a my sight
But if I could I would not consider myself me
If my brain dissolved to the point where
I forgot me
or forgot you.
So am I just adaptive?
Am I just something my mind has made up?
Is the me I know just a figment of my imagination?
A deadly weapon for a naked primate?
Would tragedies exist
If no one remembered how to wail and mourn?
That being said, it makes me wonder
What am I?
Do I really exist?
Am I just emotions masquerading as basic need?
Can a human act on something other than emotion?
Is any decision besides when to piss
Or what to pull out of the fridge
Is any decision besides these
Anything but emotion?
A frontal lobe concoction?
Do I exist?
Do you exist?
Do we exist?
This morning when I slammed my fists into the breakfast table
And stormed out cursing God...
Even then I couldn't help but wonder
Is my broken heart really just
the lucky charms scattered on the breakfast table?
Is my soul
Just spilled milk
dripping. on. your. floor.