Worms

The worms they travel like electric current. Rushing all  the way, making way through the many zigzag turns around the various lumps of the brain. Yeah lumps, which the elites call 'lobes'. These worms they spawn new ones. They intermingle, they merge and de-merge. And keep on playing with no worries of how miserable they make the person they are inside. There are just so many of them. Every time a new point of view emerges, a new one is produced occupying the same constrained boot-space further constraining it. The same happens when the person acquires a new knowledge, a new grammar, or a new unjust-ness. The justness seems to dissolve in everyday run of the life, it's the unjust-ness that sticks. 

You can easily imagine there has to be a carrying capacity for our brain too, just as our nature and environment. And when it exceeds, all you have got is a pain that bypasses everything else. A mind-numbing migraine with no cause about which there is nothing you can do. Yeah that's right! Because you have to look cool and composed too, if not that you have to abide by the social norm or love or respect for people and constrain yourself to a boundary. You are bottled up and you can not un-bottle it. It won't be a nice thing to witness. You are scared if any of these worms makes out of its designated place and is left out in the open. Or worse, what if they come out pouring altogether. That would be a shaming and damning exercise.  But inside you feel like screaming. 

You better scream it out. So at least you have freed yourself of the projections of these worms, and you are liberated of the unhygienic radicals they have produced. But you don't have any place to do that, to scream. The houses are too close. And the neighbours too nosy. You scream and they ask if anyone died. So another concern for you will be what if they sire new worms. 

So what could have been a simple humane life is far from simple, far from humane. All because of these shiny, elusive worms!