Thought
is textured -- always vexed by your biology:
its
currents, flows, its neural zaps, hormonal glows and bursts
which
– ever new -- conduce to a collective thirst
for
a solution to which there was actually never quite a problem.
The
bobbling of the mind reacting to the bubbling-up
of
stomach acids, fluids processed through the kidney
and
the liver and the glands – a tingling in the hands, a fleeting
numbing
somnolence in feet -- entreat your heterogeneity
to
face a prospect sentience cannot greet with any reasonable
hope
of understanding. The branding of assumptions
and
the search for something like a working certainty take up
the
blood-warm apparatus with impertinence.
But
somebody is sitting next to you, as vexed as you,
emitting a familiar sigh. You might say hi..
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