BrainWrench Manifesto
When you are BrainWrench, you are:
life
a baby
a street persons cough
urine in the subway
cotton candy in the sky
When you are BrainWrench, you are:
cold pizza early in the morning
that knowing glance across a room
arms around you that care
gas station humor scribbled fast off 80
When you are BrainWrench, you are:
room tone
When you are BrainWrench, you are:
the sort of expression you feel fast like the flu
butterflies you swear you have seen before
that really great meal you will always remember
chocolate ice cream on a kids sleeve
When you are BrainWrench, you are:
a wood screw, rusted in the rain
the sound of mucus hitting pavement
When you are BrainWrench, you are:
that feeling the knife really did cut you
the relief when you were wrong
When you are BrainWrench, you are:
the smell of wet newspaper
the smell of people when they come out of the rain
When you are BrainWrench, you are:
brown
When you are BrainWrench, you are:
the cabs all off duty when everyone is going home
When you are BrainWrench, you are:
sealing wax and Michelangelo
that moment when a child looks at you for the first time, again
When you are BrainWrench, you are:
soft skin
When you are BrainWrench, you are:
that akward moment when no one talks
a smile
a fuck you
the finality of the end
When you are BrainWrench, you are:
decay
--
Robert Spahr
New York City 1999