the Aftermath of the Confusion

Where are my shoes,
glasses, and keys?
Who is that in the mirror?
Who rudely stares,

and examines with a critical eye?

I can't breathe.
I gotta lie down.
Can't lie down
gotta get up.

The clock is ticking.

What is the problem.
Can't solve the problem,

if I don't know what it is.

I am too old.
Stop staring at me.

I can't imagine the future.

Good? Bad?  Nothing.
How can I hope?
If I can't imagine?

My brain is partially broken.

If it is damaged this much,

why not go all the way?
Am I just a brain?

Is there an afterlife?
Is there something else
more than this?