alostlittlebird
Bluelighter
- Joined
- Feb 8, 2003
- Messages
- 1,554
Serotonin. Dopamine. Adrenalin. Adenosine.
Serotonin as the sun rises.
The earth is so anxious, incredibly eager for energy.
One man wakes alone to sort out a mess of incomplete impulses.
He's not alone, he's never really alone, because he can feel.
Feelings bridge the gap that isn't really there,
feelings connect those miserable souls that cling to the illusion
that they are disconnected.
How did that one soul become so many?
Dopamine as the doors open.
Will the man make sense of his senses?
He wears his generalizations like a blindfold, so apparent,
but is vigilant in keeping his heart from his sleeve.
He's got matters at hand,
empty elaborations that make it easy
to hand what really matters over to anyone but him.
There's nothing after the moment of elation,
until that moment comes of course.
Adrenalin as action arises.
Which came first the action or the thought?
Somewhere in between there's a single dot
that has yet to be connected.
Sometimes as time allows, the man can make an educated decision,
but mostly it's the sum total of a life of half learned lessons.
There will always be an infinite string of choices,
neither right nor wrong,
that drags from his pantleg, getting longer every second,
until it finally reaches the ceiling where he can dangle limply from it's end.
Adenosine, a curtain to conclude the scene.
A rush of vibrations dies down to a dull static.
Light is just a ghostly glimmer from a star,
creeping in reverse, back into the cave of the sky,
leering from the shadows at the victims and the victors.
All things unwind and reset,
the mind of man gives in to pure breath and feeling.
Dreams astonish and fade, like the mysteriousness of a magic act
undescribed and simple so the audience can keep on believing.
Its why the wicked get no rest.
- jeremy
Serotonin as the sun rises.
The earth is so anxious, incredibly eager for energy.
One man wakes alone to sort out a mess of incomplete impulses.
He's not alone, he's never really alone, because he can feel.
Feelings bridge the gap that isn't really there,
feelings connect those miserable souls that cling to the illusion
that they are disconnected.
How did that one soul become so many?
Dopamine as the doors open.
Will the man make sense of his senses?
He wears his generalizations like a blindfold, so apparent,
but is vigilant in keeping his heart from his sleeve.
He's got matters at hand,
empty elaborations that make it easy
to hand what really matters over to anyone but him.
There's nothing after the moment of elation,
until that moment comes of course.
Adrenalin as action arises.
Which came first the action or the thought?
Somewhere in between there's a single dot
that has yet to be connected.
Sometimes as time allows, the man can make an educated decision,
but mostly it's the sum total of a life of half learned lessons.
There will always be an infinite string of choices,
neither right nor wrong,
that drags from his pantleg, getting longer every second,
until it finally reaches the ceiling where he can dangle limply from it's end.
Adenosine, a curtain to conclude the scene.
A rush of vibrations dies down to a dull static.
Light is just a ghostly glimmer from a star,
creeping in reverse, back into the cave of the sky,
leering from the shadows at the victims and the victors.
All things unwind and reset,
the mind of man gives in to pure breath and feeling.
Dreams astonish and fade, like the mysteriousness of a magic act
undescribed and simple so the audience can keep on believing.
Its why the wicked get no rest.
- jeremy
it was fun for me to read.
