The Beast With No Brain.

Charlie J. Mitchell
1 min readOct 21, 2021

That story you once told me
Kept me going on for months
It convinced me that I’d found
A way to out-think the beast with no brain
At my pique, I could run for hours at a time
My screams were invisible, my trial a thrill
My God, we were in love
The forest held me tight
I let her drain every thought for food
My God, for a moment I saw His face
But man, I have festered my own destiny
And cut it into pieces
Reassembled with no rhyme or reason
And the beast broke through the woods
Devoured the legs that knew her name
At once, the road broke with even strides
Now I’m not so sure at all
If I’m more zombie
Or cherry-eating pacifist
How many more wives have to die
Before I understand your lesson?
Would it always be in vain?
Is Death a prophet of my vanity?
Am I the beast or the brain,
And whose mind is it anyway?

Is a holey picture more whole
Than a holy picture of a hole?

I guess that’s how they get you.
By hiding the answer in the question
Until slowly
You can no longer spot the difference.

Call me when you get this
And tell your wife I’m sorry.



Charlie J. Mitchell

A traveling writer from Austin, Texas. I write stories and poems.