There come times where my brain falls apart. Not like the shattering of a glass on porcelain tiles or the decimation of an icicle hitting the sidewalk. No, it's not like that at all. When my brain falls apart it is slow. Like in the middle of the night when I feel my blanket sliding over the edge of the bed due to my relentless tossing and turning. I know that I could prevent it from falling and there are times I do. But there also come times that I don't. Instead letting it fall to the ground, hearing it hit the floor. Ignoring the chill until sleep releases my mind. There come times when my brain falls apart. But maybe it doesn't. Maybe I am the one who takes out the screws And wonders why it doesn't hold together.