Lean inwards, inwards
Rummage around your imagination
The back of the cupboard where you can’t see
But where all the most interesting things
The deeper you get,
Rotten things which crumble in your hands
Hold them reverently, or lose them.
A bat skeleton, tiny, frail, bones like needles
A toy car, flaking paint, tacky orange grease
A tin of crumbly letters
Written in your grandmother’s hand
Newspaper cutouts but why
Index cards of recipes gone by.
Keep going further, if you dare
Something might bite you
Or you might uncover
A mystery covered in tar
A peat moss mummy
An old god, carved
A thing hearkening back to the dawn of humanity
A thing so true it has remained
In the back cabinets of minds for generations
Safe from the light.
You know they are there
Though you try very hard to forget.
An average day PMSing:
I have doubted my bread consumption, worried about getting bunion surgery, worried about my vaccines, doubted the entire medical field, worried about calories, tried to figure what the hell it is about butyrate, worried about Huntington’s, worried about my sister quitting sugar, grown frustrated at the lack of substance to online research, researched online how people research online, hated on the fallibility of the media, hated on food trends, hated on trend haters, considered joining a gym, considered buying a weight set, considered cycling to work and abandoned the concept for the millionth time, bashed myself for abandoning the concept of cycling to work, worried about the poorly maintained areas in my house, worried about the quality of my writing, worried about whether I’ll finish my comic… of course this is the hyper-condensed version, and all within the space of a few hours.
Do you see why I love meditation? I can’t believe lots of normal people go through life thinking like this every day. I can see it in their eyes. They’re always on high alert, waiting for reality to pounce.
I’d like to trade in my higher brain for nothing. Just leave it hollow. We only need a primitive brainstem to function anyway. Lizard smiles from me to you!
A human mind is a computer.
Or is a computer a human mind?
Computers are our children
We create in our own image
They are not alien from us at all.
Human begets computer.
Computer thinks like human.
Can trigger information, a memory.
All stored in its head
It can even run imaginary simulations of a life.
What if I were a violent thug?
What if I lived in a fantasy world?
What if I could build anything?
It’s just what we might think
Lying in bed at night.
We can only conceive
Of things we already know.
Like all of our creations
Are self portraits.
Do you hear it?
Please say you do too
Scratching, scuttling, nervous sounds
Like a small animal
Whose heart flutters at 200 beats per minute
Whose teeth must ever
It skitters in the walls
Tiny nails abrading wood
The tiny teeth!
Nibbling the bones of the home
Scratching the insulation
Gnawing, nesting, breaking down, carrying on
Now you know how crazy people feel
Hearing rats in the walls
It’s a sound which can shatter your sanity
What if you could never escape?
Those constant little scritches
The sound, the feel of damage
That intense high strung entity
So busy inside
Your ceiling and walls
What if you could never escape?