Synaptic Misfire: Poetry

It's otherworldly,
this juice plowing
through my skull,
turning me inside out
with a Hellenistic vibe

I've got this nagging
feeling that life is out
of my control
and it's all convalescing
into a space-unit module
from the skies

Synaptic Misfire,
short-circuiting in my skin
reason shouts,
intuition whispers
and its all reduced to sin

Synaptic Misfire,
the blaze of the idea's torch
eradicating personality
beneath its fingers
with a love that tends to scorch

So here I am,
my body's a rebel,
turning against me like a criminal
who forgot who makes the mark

I'm just so much energy,
fused into a gel-coated
circuit board,
fried and dried from my own
calculations of what 3.14
could be,
should be,
would be,
if I could close my eyes and breathe

Somebody open the door,
let the air in so I don't feel so tight
as if the room is choking me
and everything else in sight

I've got a synaptic misfire,
it's the stuff of brilliance, man
After I'm done having my breakdown
you'll congratulate me on my
new hypothesis
and progress will march on

I've got a synaptic misfire,
it's overriding common sense,
I'm being driven by a rider whose
name escapes me
save that its something creative
and unique

And that rider whispers that
we're just one step away from insanity,
one step away from Heaven's Door
and we just get so damn frightened
that we run back to way we've come...

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