There are five widely known senses.
Sight, hearing, touch, smell and taste.
We've got some minor ones as well, such as balance, temperature and many more.
However, people fail to realise that there's also the sixth major sense. Thoughts themselves.

   If we look closely, all these five senses have the same base. Specified cells in eye react to energy of light, cells of ear recieve energy in form of air's vibrations, skin cells pick up energy of mechanical changes, and so tasting and hearing depend on translation of certain substances' chemical energy.
   These cells in different organs differ in their structure and the way they appear, however, if we stop looking at them in such small scale, we can see that ALL of the cells or organs responsible for any sense translate the energy.
   So, a light enters the eye, certain wavelenght of certain energy stimulates the eye's rod or cone cells with a certain intensity. Then the energy of light is translated to energy of electrical impulse, which goes straight to the brain, creating the sensation of sight.
   If it comes to smell, a certain particle enters the nose, binds to a smell receptor cell, and the chemical energy of this particle is, again, translated to energy of electrical impulse, which goes straight to the brain, creating the sensation of smell.

   Now, let's move to the crucial part. The sense of thoughts.
   During the creation of thought, pathways in our brain that collect memories(and many more known or unknown pathways) connect. First, there's this spark of electricity, that moves all along the neuron and releases a dose of neurotransmitters(amount of different NTs is equiavlent to strength of this spark, basically resulting in "creating" various thoughts).
Then, chemical energy of NEUROTRANSMITTER is translated to energy of electrical impulse, which happens in the brain, creating the sensation of thought.
   Therefore the 'sense of thoughts' reacts to and is stimulated by neurotransmitters themselves, with receptors on neurons' membrane being receptors of the stimulus. So, kind of like smell, the stimulus is chemical, compared to sight, where it's electromagnetic wave; anyways the result in all of these is electric impulse in neurons (hence the idea of "thoughts" as a sense, due to the same basic layout; transfer of energy).
   The 'smell particle' connects to receptor and is translated to a certain amount of neurotransmitters/certain strenght of neuronal impulse. SO, again, we can see that when the first outer layer of this communication is cut off, we're left only with the neurotransmitters and impulses themselves. Anyway, the transduction of energy remains.

   If it comes to "sense of thoughts" the receptor lies within us, whereas in sight or smell or touch it's external. However, does it matter if it's on the surface of skin or under it if it all comes down to neurons of our brain?
   When you lie in a dark, silent room, without any external stimuli, you still retain your thoughts, colorful, vivid or complex. All the magic of the brain - still happens. So, how isn't it a separate, full-fledged sense?

Remember, that chaos first was a primordial deity,
Chaos; the nothingness from which all else sprang
headfirst and heartfelt,
half-naked and handsome,
hook, line and... halibut.

All of this,
every measurable moment,
every particle,
every object set forth in motion
sprang from a void so harmoniously
as if the absence of everything was kissed
sudden
by the presence of something.

Often depicted with wings, a bow, and a quiver of arrows,
Cupid, son of Venus - goddess of love,
son of Mercury - god of trade,
his story,
almost identical in Greek and in Roman
mythology,
his story, about a couple of gods
who seem so inherently human by nature,
jolted by jealousy,
dumbstruck by beauty,
hellbent on immortality,
his story has been hallmarked
as red hot velvet rose petal fine wine
and symmetrical hearts.
Wrapped in tin foil red ribbons
bitter-sweetly sugarcoated
dipped in thin layer of chocolate
taste-tested and lover approved.

Remember that scene in Hook
where Tinkerbell leaves her footprints on Peter's chest,
well that's you and that's me--
touch me where my heart beats
because I don't ever wanna be a lost boy.
I wanna grow up like a good bedtime story
with morals
and purpose,
I wanna have meaning.

You might say that Cupid found himself.
You might say that Psyche found her soul.
You might say that Tinkerbell was just faking it--
with the clapping.
Truth is, we can never know the whole story--
the complete truth.
Problem is, we think we can
and act like we do.
So the only time we mean what we say
is the first time we say it,
every utterance thereafter is just an attempt
at recreating a moment.

I love you
is a paraphrase
that deserves three separate ellipses
because there's a lot left unsaid.

I (distinctively remember shadow-boxing with)
love (against a star-dotted sky anchored to a
moonlight so vibrant it can only be compared to)
you (and your tidal waves).

And that's where I fell
headfirst and handsome.

I (was punched-drunk by a kiss so breathless
that it spiked my dopamine to a volume
that can only be described as) love
(in that every time my neurotransmitters feel) you
(they spin themselves dizzy and dance to your science).

There was a moment in the absence of everything
when I was kissed silent by the presence of something.

Hold me to your breastplate.

I don't ever wanna go back to the void.



*02/09/2010

“The most important scientific revolutions all include, as their only common feature, the dethronement of human arrogance from one pedestal after another of previous convictions about our centrality in the cosmos.”*
Stephen Jay Gould

Give me
vacuum tube torus Lorentz-Klein interference receptors
dual noble-gas maser integration processors
at least one
prosthetic Gaussian carbon-coated ribosomal Tesla coil
an anthropomorphic hierarchical temporal meme-pseudopod
some
support vector k-nearest neighbor algorithms
reverse engineered quantum optic die-cast silica motherboards
self-assembling three dimensional electro-active protein polymers
maybe even
a superconducting spectral alkali resonance analyzer
paired with
harmonizing piezoelectric kinematic thermal modules
dipped in
subzero Kurzweil-circuit nanite neurotransmitters
and voila!
God.

Roof over our head, smile on our lips.
Rings on our fingers, baby in the stroller.
You and I work the 9 to 5 shift,
Before heading to bed, lights out with a kiss.
A perfect life: Except I'm bipolar.

The day to day is more than bearable.
Little fights, taking little to heart.
Then I snap, and it all gets terrible.
Singing dramatically, dancing on the table.
That's when the fun part starts.

What triggers it is anyone's call.
It could be a traumatic event,
Or it could be for no reason at all,
Other than neurotransmitters not being sent;
Sending my mind into a place I'm enthralled.

I'm sent to a building that makes me feel well,
After bringing your patience to the brink.
It's a necessary evil, but at the time, it's Hell;
And when it will happen again, no one can tell.
I'm sent home with pills and time to think.

Roof over our head, smile on our lips.
Rings on our fingers, baby in the stroller.
You and I work the 9 to 5 shift,
Before heading to bed, lights off with a kiss.
A perfect life: Except I'm bipolar.

It is a terrible thing this flesh that wears us
Being makes us
Slaves to atomic thought
Particles possessing some consciousness
Dreams stream from the undermind
To undermine
All we thought we were

From the sub-atomic to the atomic
On into the protein patterns of our thoughts
Neurotransmitters flood and fulminate
Filling our minds with strange things
Receptor receiving impressions
Leave strangers believing instincts

Animals evolved to understand but ignore
The gifts we have acquired from millions years and more
A talent for analyzing then adjusting ourselves
And after the fact constructing a model
That makes continuity out of all of the chaos

Now most take it for granted
Become carbon copies cut in granite
They give in to the impulses
And waste said potential on fulfilling the illusion

The desire to be grander is subsumed
By their fear of non-existence
Which is what they become
Not after death
But as cogs in the machine
In a factory of robotic human beings

you call me *****
label me with broad brushstrokes
to paint onto the tableau of
my life a permanent stain where
you think i don't already see one.

the joke's on you.

trying to sully an already *****
contaminated crime scene
you won't wipe away fingerprints
seared into my skin
by those who also
saw me as that *****
were you disappointed when you saw
i already had ruby red marks
of hands wrapped around my neck?
because your flying shrapnel
accusations make me wonder
if you wish you had
gotten there first.

*****.

though the declaration stings
it certainly doesn't take me
by surprise when i
see that word stamped across my
forehead any time i look in the mirror
the syllable lives between my legs
and bleeds my secret shame
but i can't let you see me cry
i can't let you know it hurts
i can't let on that i would do
anything to purge this stain.

how could you understand
that i see my reflection in
***** in the toilet so i
shove my fingers farther down
my throat to recreate
that feeling of drowning
the gags that created me.

*****.

i want to blame that
violation
or even my erratic neurotransmitters
for morphing that flaxen-haired
nice girl
into the gnarled old
shame-riddled creature who sits
silently before you
being named *****.

but it was no one else who
led myself to this place
who traversed dimly-lit rooms
of iniquity
and was reborn as this contemptible creature
i take up my cross
my new mantle
my ******* scarlet letter.

you make me want
to run through the streets screaming
to stand on a street corner
preaching the gospel
of my culpability
have you heard the news
of our ****** executioner
the *****
the label feels even more
familiar than my own name.

i don't deserve a name.

take my clothing and dress me
in rags
strip me of my name and address me
only as *****
my life will now be only
passive acceptance and
those hands will explore my hidden places
though they are as unknown
as Disneyland on a gilded
summer day
but you can watch my searing shame
in the invisible white hot tears
only i know.

don't touch the *****
or you might fall victim to
my contagious disease
of optics and opinion
myself the lowest caste of society
relegated to empty halls
and abandoned structures
where i am abandoned as well.

you seem surprised that
the *****
would be fiercely independent
would be accustomed to
being alone
but who stays with a *****?
who takes her home to
meet the family
my independence was merely
an adaptation
Darwinian evolution ensuring
i would survive
to suffer another day
another trial
another sentence.

i understand now why
criminals are handed
multiple life sentences
because i'm punished daily
deservedly so
i would **** myself and if
i came back i would
cry out for more
more pain
more lashes
lay me bare and cut the skin from
my bones and call me *****
never stop
never let me forget
what is burned into the back of
my eyelids
a memory connected to
that word
my name.

i was given that name
by violating vandals
who spray painted my guilt
all over myself
and i can't escape that night
whenever i close my eyes and
pray i won't wake up
or pray i'll wake up in some other body
uncontaminated
a form that was never touched
virginal purity i wish i could
somehow repackage and
re-insert into my ****
to purify the orifice of all
those who branded me
*****
the mantle i took on myself
and made manifest.

Why are my feelings so complicated?
Things should be simple.
Did I relapse last weekend?
I can feel the hunger, the drive
to consume substance; apotheogenesis.

4ll these wor1ds inside 3ach of u5,
4ll just wyrds in 7ime.

Ate some Syrian Rue after breakfast,
Peganum Harmala, its alkaloids act as
reversible inhibitors of monoamine oxidase [RIMA].
The principle active alkaloid is Harmine.
RIMAs prevent the break-down of
some neurotransmitters.
Consequently it interacts
with most drugs, and even foodstuffs rich in tryptophan.
An informed and responsible user
can safely manage their diet to minimize adverse effects.
I must say I enjoyed that day I could feel,
Though the day after had quite a few moments of doubt.
What's more, it was interesting to get higher
as a result of simply having a meal.
I am happy with the experience.

the waiting of
knick knack paddy whack
the toxic
neurotransmitters
the corrosion
of my 7th branch
the thought of
the reality of
sometimes lonely
on a little
planet
every *****
thing
evaporated
water
you draw me
your hand
covered in
lyrics
a limerick of knuckles
a sometimes waiting
patiently
a sometimes never
to come

i've learned from scientists
the miracle of magnets
and from magicians
the secrets of tombs aztec
and though i've learned
from anatomists
every muscle of your smile
while exposed to my
retina and optic nerve
there's no explanation
for how this heart stirs...

regardless of posited
hormones or neurotransmitters,
textbook figures, controlled exams,
flow charts, histograms,
there is no quantifiable
measure of the distance
my heart jumps
when in relation
to you.

she said

"biology is ruthlessly cold, without a soul,
it makes you think
your only purpose in life....

is to reproduce"

but isn't that it?

that's the point.

to be blinded by biology, psychology.
neurotransmitters.
into reproducing happily with a partner.

someone to gently
warm you with their hand's caress
until death makes you both cold?

i remember the days,
i stumbled about the world
fooled blind by notions.

fool me again.

i learn instead
cells form tissues, organs, ***** systems, bodies.
that clench and bend with emotion and thought...

but never touch.
even when closest,
separated.

the pressure felt
our own cells squishing together
to make sure of that.

do you know...

do you know that?

we never touch...
betrayed by biology
i let science and fact go


the flood

the realization


we never touch...

we never actually touch.

and i never was actually warm.

Rocking my snap back, blowing up like a bellow back, juggling bars like it were a hacky sack. Life tries it’s best to give me set backs, but I just sit back and get back up for a comeback. Underdog from the underground, not here to blunder around for I want to be glory bound. Bound for glory, can’t keep me downed man for this is my heroes story. Story of my life, story that almost ended with a knife. Had enough of being left astray, for I no longer was going let myself be treated like an ashtray. Going into the fray, going in but this time I promise I won’t lose my way. Weighed my options, weighted the choices, and now they come to flourishing motion. I only listen to my own notions, and I will sacrifice anything to succeed even if I end up like the borthans. Death stares through the stars, but I won’t be taken by no Death Star. Starting ground up, for you gotta do what ever it takes to get to the top. Toppled the haters and the fakers, for my bars are like eating a snickers. Keep yawl satisfied and I’m so grateful that my effort has been gratified. Bonified dignified undenied modified undefined went in applied and rallied from a moral guide to tear apart the diseased hide.  Government conspiracy, government deemed freedom of speech as heresy. And here I see the flaws, and here I came out of the depths with my claws. Clawed for my dream, dream of attaining cream. Escaped the depths of the Demi-gorgan pit, because it’s all about survival of those who are more fit. Fit to be a decency, but because I’m different I’m deemed a discrepancy. So I’m going in like a ghost doing recon call me Tom Clancy, exposing all these ******* fallacies. Falling down an icy *****, and for the longest time we couldn’t open up because we was introduced to dope which was anything but dope. Dopamine filling my being, neurotransmitters firing so fast that I attain this happy feeling. False perceptions to stimulants, false ideals gotta use discretion’s before I end up in a addiction predicament. Moving fast, moving slow, the ride won’t last, so I always gotta have me mo. Self medicate self evaporate self ******* which leads to self hate and broken fate.Too long since I noticed anything but myself, feel like a ***** villain man so should I arrest my self. I just long for rest myself, and maybe it’s time for someone else to assess myself. Maybe it’s time to visit the mental asylum

Crushing the air from my lungs, exhaling in a gasp
If it's nothing more than the dance of neurotransmitters across synapses
Nerves transmitting impulses
Proton gradients forming and dissipating
Why do I feel it so vividly

i have survived
storms.
i have survived a father's voice like thunder;
handprint lightning flowers petal over my skin
like i am a garden to sinners-
adam and eve call my grassroots their home and hum lullabies-
i have survived
anger.
pros and cons of
clock-ticking therapy sessions where money is thrown at my gaze,
fixed on the wall,
dollar-a-second drumming fingers
screaming so loud that heaven shuts the blinds and hangs a "closed" sign on the door.
pros and cons of
stumbling home,
under a murky peerless crowd of smoke,
slurring words trail around and behind me like moths to a porchlight.
morning headaches,
angry adults
damaging drywall and breaking family portraits
exhausting search for answers
exhausting search in a silence that lengthens the disconnect from child to mother
where your mind goes red and the honest truth that stays stuck to the roof of your mouth falls out
where you become an overflowing mailbox and your hands shake
the absence of parents who never taught you to hold your tongue
i have survived
hurt.
i have survived the specific type of loss that you feel in the pit of your stomach
the one that lies next to you
when you stare at the ceiling and your face hurts from crying
tears scrub your eyelids raw and you promise,
"if i ever make it through this,
i will never be here again."
i have survived giving up,
taking it all back, throwing it all away,
parallel structures of contemplation and decision
i have survived
lonely.
angry storms of abandonment, melodies of the lonely and the hurt
i reprise to the ones that add injury to insult,
you are not the worst thing that has ever happened to me.
i echo choruses to the people that force me to grow up at sixteen
i have destruction embedded into my neurotransmitters
i have shooting post-traumatic pain in my memories
i have survived
a hell that your hands are not stained enough to touch.
i assure you,
my love,
i will survive
you as well

When people ask what I do for a living,
I respond

“Listening to my heart ******
as my mind garden blossoms
incandescent indigo constellations
humming the songs of nature’s entirety.

I sensually embrace the entirety’s
divine lips kissing my spirit
with sacred words
merging into me—
a blissful osmosis of neurotransmitters
waltzing with my consciousness
flowing liquid electricity
and molten rhythms of oxygen
in kinetic unison through moments
of subjective apocalypses
slowly returning to yugen.”

When asked where I see myself in ten years,
I respond

“Copacetic contentment—
having surrendered my life
to more than just the digital currency
of likes and retweets
and the constantly dissolving paper coins
because I chose to see people
as breathing pieces of naked art,
in progress,
stripped down to their thoughts
jettisoned through this spherical time
of infinite space and possibility
slowly accepting there is more out there
beyond traditional political religical flimflam,
beyond abnormal logicality,
beyond nirvana.”

As I go,
My mind is excited and exciting
But I see the faceless faces,
expressionless, wanting
faces but not grasping
at the ones they could have.

There are two boxes.
I am on the outer box, and
the faceless horrors on the inner.

My college life so far is
"The difference of squares,"
writes the calculus teacher.
Speedy notes to get back to the thought I had.

Crying in despair about
never crying about being happy,
I realize that the faceless all
enjoy the meta-humor.
Even without mouths, I can hear their cackles.

Why are we alone? We few
colored souls, drowning in a sea
of grey pidgeons,
messenger birds from
the great shepherds.
They send wavelengths by
robotic pideon neurotransmitters.
It sounds silly, but they do it.

When the message flies
free
to our drums,
we hear,
"Dude, shouldda come drinking with us after the game last night."
"I'd rather not, the color is important to me."
Color is vibrancy; keep it, keep it please!

I use a suppression
To the ADD
I call it depression

12/13/2019

The abomination that is the human mind

twists and turns, spews and shouts

as worms in filth

or words on paper

crawling and consuming

evolving and discharging

imbibing knowledge and purging perception

letters illustrate products of chemical reactions

neurotransmitters conspire with memory and ideology

excreting dopamine and epinephrine by the milliliters

no one can read what is safe

no one is safe from what they read

poetry is a bowel movement of the mind….

Box cutter to skin
Stop!
But the lights are screaming
The corners become razors
The stars even hurt my eyes
And the voices are vices to my head
My skin becomes a prison
My vessels and veins are clawing to get out
Misfiring neurotransmitters, the doctors say
Swallow this cocktail of pretty pills and you'll feel fine
Pastels of pink and yellow and green
Swallow them daily, I do
But still the world screams and cuts at me
I want dark and cool and peace
This world does not understand
It hurls at me
Throwing knives and swords as I sprint away
Box cutter to skin
Peace as the stress drips down my arm
Dark as it drips faster
Cool, peace and dark

You helped me with my calculus,
And told me about tangent lines
Which meet for a while,
Then go their separate ways

In biology you gave me a microscope
Showed me a piece of my hair, and said
“See, these ends are where my fingers get stuck.”
And proceeded to tell me how our bodies
Are constantly changing, making new cells

You even knew some psychology
And explained why I felt butterflies around you
All those neurotransmitters bouncing around
Making me happy in the presence of you

You showed me so many things
I thought you could teach me anything
And be the answer to all of my questions

You never taught me what to do in your absence

Life has peaks, moments,
that begin just beneath the denim.
Neurotransmitters in a frenzy,
every nerve ending buzzes,
wriggles, screams, every nerve says,
"This is all there is. Inhale the smell of sweat and
****** fluids."
Serotonin, Dopamine, "This is your function," they say,
"This is what your body is for."
Testosterone, Oxytocin, "This copulation, this second, stay here."
Hands cannot be still,
Mouth cannot close,
Tongue cannot retract,
And it builds with every inch you feel.
It seeks your spots, your sensitivities, your favorite weakness,
It seeks them and presses on them,
In that slow-at-first-harder-now way,
Until,
You wake up ******* your bed.

So then the Gnostic heresies issued in one of two beliefs. They believed either that Jesus was not really divine but simply one of a series of emanations from God, or that he was not in any sense human but a kind of phantom in the shape of a man. The Gnostic beliefs at one and the same time destroyed the real godhead and the real manhood of Jesus.

from: The Gospel of John  by William Barclay (1955)

Gnosis reveals in reverberation:
you’ve done too many **** hits.
You sprawl at the threshold of psychosis
until the shape of the song fits.

Your cannabis-flavored thoughts implode—
you glimpse the Divine Emanation
as the lesser vibrations diminish and die
now you enter the shrine of elation.

This rare revelation—imparted to you
(the neurotransmitters surge)
seems to show that you know, that you know, that you know
the deceptions of *Demiurge . . .

Disembodied, hovering, floating to her chair
I guess that's the only way I could have made it there
I don't recall walking down the hall
And opening her door
But soon I sat, zombie-like
Staring at the floor
Her brown eyes scanning, studying
Prying for some more
More to the story than what she saw
walking through that door
Soon the tears rained down my face
My mouth refused to move
The words, cotton, in my throat
Stuck to tell the tale
Only solution left to do
Was lift the cotton veil
The silence, thick, lay in the room
As slowly I unfold
And bared my story
Red and slashed,
with words Still left untold
I lifted my gaze and met her eyes
Scared of what I'd see
Detached alarm
Reaching for my arm
Questions raining down
When and how and why and what?
Do you want to do it again?
I slowly nodded up and down
We have two solutions then
Go to the hospital right away
I recommend you do
Or call a sister or a friend
To watch you
24 and 7
What the hell brought me to this place
You maybe ask yourself
Imbalances, and life and the loss of love
Neurotransmitters and pain
Wrong medicines and hate and grief
The fear of burdening my friends
My days go by
Both good and bad
I'm up and then I'm down
I dream of a girl in red and blood
Then a girl with gold and pearls
I dream of crashing head and on to end the pain and strife
Then think about the beauty ahead that's sure to come to life
Balance is a word I long to reach
It's far and foggy now
I hope one day it will sit and stay
And I'll be just like you, my friend
Exactly like you, my friend

Droplets of sweat flattened on our foreheads under the weight of a mid-August sun—flattened into ovals of sticky sodium, catching specks of stray dirt swept into the air from the passing semi’s and transport trucks, whipping the wind into torrents of chalky highway dust.

Pressed high against the skies curved plain, we used our thumbs to browse the passing cars like pages of an anthology enclosed by a narrow spine of asphalt.

But when one pulled onto the shoulder and we approached the passenger side window, we too were ****** with the expectation and appeal of a library—mutually eager in the labour of conversation for the currency of experience.

For a moment, as the prairie receded in the side mirrors, our car became the baseline of a frantic cardiogram, crowded by the landscape of rising granite walls and low-hanging canyons, and the space between our separate lives closed like parallel lines drawn by gravity to a magnetic core.

We pushed our destination west, as far as it would go, safe on the heels of expectation. In motion the passing towns crackled like neurotransmitters firing signals over axons of black asphalt. But each time the car slowed to release us, one more they faded into a rancid stasis, that, once more, we aimed only to depart.

Permeating - Begins with a simple dispute, argument, disagreement, and conflict with the individual. Second, temperate levels arise, violence emerges, resulting in uncontrollable actions, creating a brutal response. Third, very difficult to describe, but I will do my best, here it goes, limits have exceeded beyond recognition, logic is no longer liable, quickly disappearing, reasoning malfunctions, love is no longer there, hate has taken full control, picture this experience, the demonic manifestation.

Torturing - The body increases heavily in strenght, meanwhile pain flows throughout the blood stream, invincibility neurotransmitters take over, eyes dialect largely covering the entire layer, screams become very unfamiliar, roughly deep raging voices infuse, bloods exposed, numbness arose, receptors react, nothings inevitable its too late, shark bate, regenerate don't anticipate or hesitate, meditate composure and control the setting, pain is in motion.

Suffocating - Powerless embodiments, crucial destruction, ineffective signals, petrified terrified horrified symptoms, death is near if the hody turns weak, vulnerable absorption, manipulating cells propelled, evil casting spell, damaged speech impairment, strange feelings corrupt breathe intakes, prone to cardiovascular shutdown, heart attack, seizures, lose conscious, maybe faint, watching this occurrence is far much more traumatic, I'd say an experience unforgettable, marking scars forever, taken to my grave, remember Jesus saves...

A surge of adrenaline shoots through me
I push harder, using the newfound strength!
I'm going further than ever before and it all seems so easy
it's practically effortless!

I feel my foot connect with the floor as i set in motion
a great movement
throwing me forward with yet another boost!
I've never felt so alive. I'm invincible!
I don't hunger for anything, aside from more power!
Who said that there's a bad side to this!


Suddenly a connection is made, my senses have caught me
full force the neurotransmitters surge with a rush of information!
You're tired now. You're exhuasted now. You're. Human. Now.


Lethargy, deadening my senses.
All the power, all the energy escapes
as if the floodgates have opened
I feel the mortal weakness, I feel like a human again.

I pushed too hard, I felt it, the rush
It was too good and I went over my own limits
I have to feel it again! that rush!
And so another magic little moment enters my mouth
promising me another rush, another shot at immortality.
I'll never see the down coming.

These unfailing ocular orbs did not hesitate to be drawn to the one that would give it all to be given the same. Peering into the depths of the mirror I can see her reflection. A realization that slowly caused my stomach to toss and turn as if within a sleepless night. I counted the temporal grains as each fell into my outstretched hands and piled into an uneven pyramid. It was in this moment that I decided to give this captured time as a gift to the one that inspired it. To the being that I have known since the single supernova explosion that inspired existence. The ***** pushing vitae through this shell quickened its pace upon noticing its other half within reach of the arms it sustains. Neurotransmitters being fired out as quickly and brilliantly as the fireworks of the mid-summer gathering. Chemicals carrying the message that she exhaled effortlessly to me. "We are the same". My body fully realized the gravity of the situation as I was pulled downwards into the chair resting beneath me. As a scientist that has come to the realization that they have discovered something that will alter the facts of reality for those that understand it. I am the other side of the mirrors that she stares into. A mirror that long ago cleaved a single soul into two parts that would meet again in each lifetime that they shared. Two parts separated by no secrets, as the words both thought were whispered into the darkness to never be heard again were received by the other half.

How else would someone know every feeling that I felt without me having to verbally express a single one?

She smiled as she told me her name.

I am not made of miracles or borrowed prayers.
There is no magic in my bones or mysticism to my name.
I am made of sweat,
Of salt stains on flushed cheeks.
I am made of blood smears
And too much hand lotion.
I am made of toil and trouble,
Of mistakes and rectification.
I am composed of ink and paper,
Of ill-remembered idioms and words I've absorbed from books.
My existence is fueled by a certain brand of sock,
A teddy bear given to me at birth,
And a desire to prove that I was more than what they told me
That I could be greater than what I thought of myself.
I am made of laughter and twisted humor,
Of Murphy's law and learning to conserve energy and care.
I am made of misbehaved neurotransmitters and wild thoughts.
I have a love of the night sky and swimming in cool waters.
My soul steeped in the desire to frolic and eat sweets.
I wear scars that prove I have suffered and earn me judgement,
But I have survived a world and brain designed to be my unbecoming
Not because I'm made of miracle or magic or prayers.
I survived because I'm made of attitude, resolve, resilience,
And a thirst to prove that I can.
Most importantly,
There always seems to be a flicker of something that promises me
That even in my worst moment, I should continue to live.

The tension
The tugging
I quarrel with
Myself again.

Perturbed neurotransmitters buzz about
My subarachnoid space,
Leaving a void where
My voice of reason once was.

What was once my cortex,
Is now a coliseum.
Gladiators donned in the Armor of God
Clash with abhorrent avatars of psychedelic malevolence.

This battle ending,
In the stalest of stalemates.
Leaving myself as the only casualty,
The lone survivor.

Parts of me, now gone forever more
I mourn the corporals of my conscience
By carrying on with my day,
As I drag my feet into the horizon.

While in the shower
I watched the water bead on my skin,
forming puddles in the creases of my
hands and I think about existence
and what it means to be human

To express how drifting into
the ocean feels like a kaleidoscope and
day and night don’t mean anything

Why we don’t kiss
strangers more often, the kind where their tongues
slip past our lips and heads and hearts burst with
feelings of real love, genuine and true

There are times when I wish the world would end
and during our last seconds, everyone would become
transparent and sincere, the firing of a single neuron
would stretch a mile till the tension
snaps, traversing synapses,
neurotransmitters, endorphins, and
loving thy neighbor

While in the shower
I see tangents in liquid universes
that form tidal waves in the canyons
of my brain and I think about you

To express how falling in
love with you feels like a bomb cloud
and you and I are one in the same

Why we kiss
each other so often, the kind where my heart
slips past your ribcage and fear and anger collapse
under our love, fruitful and wild

There are times when I wish the world would never end
and during our lifetime, we would be
euphoric and free, the corner of your eye
could tell a thousand stories of
our first kiss, jubilance,
and loving you

This pioneer was Professor of Forensic Medicine Professor Forster before sending a plan for Christian birth. Waiting for the Unfortunate Biology, First Time, Time of Breath, The Magic of Living, The First Smoke, ***** Sophia, Star Gossip, Cool Shadow, Teddy Boy, Shirt, Hard N Cute, Love, Tribal Killer Mountain, Mount Evian, bird flu, beautiful olive oil kills new water, learns from the distance from death, the list of the dead, play and motivation sheets, the angry, dark, dark car rage. Black smoke teeth of the original number of beautiful characters. William's mother, mother of the United States English-speaking William Wilhelm, many life-threatening Asian products and so on; cannot control the physical characteristics of the Black Sea. There are many women and three siblings working in three cities in the White City. At night my son, the red dragon, holy, my life is lost to the Russian girl in the corrupt and sovereign world. The eighth year of the aircraft was the first time the airplanes, eyes, drinking water, birds and animals were planed on airplanes or heavy aircraft. In the mountains is the glory of the mountains, the sacredness of the prophets and the darkness in the darkness are not common. Letters - William William's beautiful mother, William William died in English and scared many things like the Asia-Pacific, Black and White. The new kit took 3 steps and was taken to the city. At night my son, the red dragon, holy, my life is lost to the Russian girl in the corrupt and sovereign world. Parents education program likes the same aircraft or super-plane, black and white girl. Big, beautiful young woman with great music on the turntable banner, big yellow banana star star star gold star star star star golden star change seasons sky blue sky wealth of the sea sun something always alive lifelike Christ at the heart of the royal rosetta tables and his three Legends of Three Romantic Romantic Romantic Romances; Three Romance Romantic Homes Want to Look For Home In The Middle Ages Looking for Spirituality. Julia is a Little Indoor Land of Latin Jupiter Jesus' Open Robe, Number of Women; We, Gordon, Amy, Wall, Strike, Piece of Glass; Lines of Literature, Giraffe, Nature Study, "Young Emperor", "Word", "Tree" Modern, medieval literature such as National Dragons. Richter B Central Conference Run Waiting for the Sky Dark Sky Gospel warning, earthquake, Christian woman, first, dishonest China, coaches, amateur, unforgettable England, animals, dogs, summer, Europe, heat, sea, heat, feet, stone, solo, neurotransmitters, conscience. Dream Society Dreams of the Society about the dreams of funny pink deities. Thanks to Sandwich's modern sandwiches, the prophet Ezekiel leaves the leaves and leaves with the help of angels and plastic. the only person

mm...! you generate an action potential in me

seriously, you got me doin' some
crazy ion exchanges through my axon

you got me spewwin' neurotransmitters
into the space of our synaptic gap
pew pew!

we don't have to touch to be
ELECTRIFIED
oh myyy
my dendrites are standin on enddd!

oh myyy oh myy my myelin sheath is very well developed ;)

this electrochemical transfer is snappin' like whiplash

FIRE IN THE BRAIN!!!