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Old 12-16-2018, 06:59 AM   #1
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Designing Dasein at the Days Inn

My muse
stirs my psyche
into a
continuously
centrifuging
cerebral concoction
of
heterogenized homogeny.

Taking the once unified
substance of my thoughts
and separating them into
dozens of subcompartments
that are themselves
rotating into endlessly
schizoid segregations.

Making my right hemisphere my left
and vice-versa-ing everything.

Tasking me
to describe its
indescribable presence
to calculate its
incalculable intentions
to see its
invisible vibrations
to comprehend its
incomprehensible methods of communication. . .

I find stillness in this cyclone
by pulling down into the depths
pulling against the forces
that sling me out of my head.
Like retracing my path into
a cave out of which I have been thrown,
Geworfenhiet into this madness. . .
retracing a rope of thought back into myself
into my past and into my future simultaneously
like an hypoxic fetus spat from the womb
pulling umbilicus
pulling. . pulling
its way back
into the quiet, untroubled depths
of its origination,
back to its nutritious source
of fuel and replenishment.

Constantly
Absorbed by every future moment
like a perpetual sequence
of water droplets
being pinocytosed
into an ever-consumptive
destiny.

My world oscillates
in bursts and spurts
of energetic fervor
in ebbs and pauses
of deathly ennui.

I want to roar
without rest
nor repose
To soar,
full of zest
and flowing prose.
__________________
Say hello to my frontal lobe.
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