(no subject)
I acknowledge that I exist,
Although sometimes I forget,
In doing so I can envelope the entire universe.
To perceive the world around me,
Me the world must perceive,
Drinks me in through all eyes.
Breathe in through my nose
The oxygen I take for granted
The air I exhale displace molecule upon molecule.
My eyes accept light,
The same light I curse
Different wavelengths,
Straight to my brain where this information is processed
And refined-creates my angle.
I recall an evening where I forget my insignificance
What a joy it is to perceive
Even man-made objects.
To feel the window-sill, cold and moist,
I steal water droplets with my fingers,
To hear other humans, coexisting, communicating
Existing without acknowledgement, a skill I don’t possess.
Reverberations of joy snake through the hallways,
Muffle words until they mumble incomprehensible.
To see words that I can almost taste,
Inscribed heavily into a piece of notebook paper,
Blue ink, might as well be blood.
Words that describe horrible things,
The death of the spirit, mind, and body.
Still a joy to be alive and be capable of thoughts-
Even these awful ones.
The chemicals that make my brain work the way they do,
Mixing and matching to cause…
The sadness, madness and maniacal elation
That I’m entitled to.
The chemicals that change the way my brain works,
The confusion, illusions and altered states…
I can’t relate.
The first sound to grace my ears,
Erase the sounds in my head,
The first light that hits my face as I wake,
The numbers that bounce around in my head,
Grueling and numbing,
They still don’t add up.
I wonder if I’d even be satisfied if they did.
Satisfaction is to accept death,
And I am not ready-there’s too much to live.
Even if I were satisfied,
I don’t think I could take my own,
There’s too much to know.
There mere fact that I perceive keeps me afloat.
My discontent is what drives me,
Ambition comes in few other forms,
And if I wasn’t discontent with my current situation
Then my future situation wouldn’t be
The way it’s supposed to be.
I must remember that I’m still absurdly minute
In comparison to the rest of the universe,
Even the room I’m in.
I live to perceive things that
I have not already
And then my brain feels,
Destroys, discovers-
A machine with no moving parts.
I see things
That are not there,
People that have been dead for years,
Dead, but not gone… although I think they’d like to be.
They will be when my perceptions leave.
I see things
That are there.
Everyday normal people can see them
And when they talk I believe them
They’ll still be here when I leave
But for now, I still exist-floating above this body
Perched on a neck,
Perceive the world through this space,
At the top of my body, thousands of neurons
And transmitters and things that I don’t understand
That allow me to exist, and think, and write
And have thoughts,
And feel my own skin, with my own skin-and to be able to understand
That I am feeling my own skin.
That I have a self, that I perceive whether I like it or not,
That I will die but my soul might not.
That allow me to consider whether or not I have a soul,
And whether or not everyone else has a soul.
And to ask-
Why would I die when I could
Get lost in a mirror, examining the speckles in my eyes
Sucked into the black holes that lie in the center,
Perceiving myself through my own,
And to gaze right back into them…at him…again, a joy.
Light reflects me in reverse,
And I don’t know why,
And for this reason,
I want to be alive