Lovesick and you've got the cure.
Got all these symptoms. You know what for.
Don't be afraid of this contagious disease,
Just take my requisition form.
I've made room for you in my atria and ventricle.
You're the capillary to my arteriole and venule.
You're the amniotic fluid to the child in my heart.
I find you even in the interstitial parts.
Treatment like uours is like a centrifugAl force.
So be the **** stasis my heart is longing for.
Some homeostasis is what we need.
We will make compromises to succeed.
Lay me supine and you in prone.
Sensory neurons fire
Exocrine glands make to pressure
Spark endocrine glands to hear you moan.
Without your heart I'd be anemic.
Withiutbyour arms I'd be half a paraplegic.
Your kisses give me air, without them I'm cyatonic.
You're the fibrin in my veins, to my pain an anesthetic.
I'm ready for some long-term care and affection.
Got a chronic condition that needs your attention.
I k now I'm concluded, parts of me sclerosed.
Don't wait post mortem to know that you're the most.
At this precise moment.
I'm nothing but a human being under the intense influence of dopamine, norepinephrine, epinephrine and testosterone.
The infuriating effects will last, as will my aggression.
There's a reason why this is all happening. You.
Because of you.
I have no hatred nor much of the love I had for you.
For you have taken that away from me, and given it to him.
I have no words for you.
All the best.
I'm beyond hurt at this precise moment, and I have held this is for too long. To this day I am still unable to let this out. I hate it.
You ask why I am anxious, why i am depressed, let me list for you the reasons why:
Global warming
Melting glaciers
Heatwaves
Polar vertices
Category 6 hurricanes
F5 Tornadoes
Droughts
Desertification
Floods
Wild fires
Snowless winters
Ice free arctic
Antarctic ice shelf collapse
Greenland glacier melting
Perma forst thawing
Ocean warming
Ocean acidification
Coral bleaching
Sea level rising
Coastal erosion
Over fishing
Fisheries collapse
Plankton extinction
Fertilizer run offs
Chemical pollution
Raw sewage dumping
Red algae blooms
Vibrio explosions
Ozone layer depletion
Lack of fresh potable water
Acid rain
Top soil depletion
Dead soil
Deforestation
Banana palm tree cultivation
Evasive species
Overpopulation
Urban sprawl
Insect apocalypse
Animal extinction
Lower biodiversity
Bird apocalypse
Bee apocalypse
Bat apocalypse
Amphibian apocalypse
Aging nuclear power plants
Superfund sites
Radioactive contamination
Three mile island, Chernobyl, Fukushima
Endocrine disrupters
PBAs
Autism
***** count collapse
Effeminization of men
Noise pollution
Light pollution
Chronic stress
Diabetes
Metabolic diseases
Over eating
Obesity
Drug resistances
New and emerging diseases
Epidemics pandemics
Swine and bird flu
Genetic modification
Biotech tech
nano tech
Crispr
DNA
genetic testing
Designer babies
Aging population
Health care rising
Unaffordable medications
Uninsured
Medicare of all
Medical bankruptcy
Social security bankruptcy
Rise of terrorism
Rise of extremism
Far right
Alt right
Lack of education
Masculine identity crisis
Emasculation of men
Decline of boys
Rise of girls
Increasing depression and anxiety
Increase anxiety depression among young girls
Lack of human connection
Social isolation
Social awkwardness
Snowflake generation
Disintegration of the family
Suicides
Social media addiction
**** addiction
Drug addiction
Alcohol addiction
Lack of equality
Political corruption
Kleptocracy
Corporatocracy
Plutocracy
Oligarchy
New American aristocracy
Too big to fail
Privatize profits, socialize losses
Decline of democracy
Fascism
Terrorism
Religious extremism
Religious tension
Political divisiveness
National unity
Second American civil war
Helplessness of the common man
Big data
Data protection
Algorithms
Internet tracking
Lost of privacy
Artificial intelligence
Singularity
AI white collar job lost
AI automation
AI back office
Autonomous AI
5G supremacy
Quantum computer supremacy
Virtual reality
Augmented reality
Cybernetics
Chronophobia
Outsourcing
Off shoring
On shoring
Over education
Under employment
Skills gap
3rd world immigration
La reconquista
Cultural dilution
Status quo
Declining economies
Housing crisis
Housing cost
Homelessness
Illiteracy
Hunger
Unemployment
Full employment
Racism
Intolerance
Race relationships
Increasing crime
Student loans
Credit card debt
High mortgages
7 year car loans
Inverse yield curve
52 week high
Wars
Military interventions
Social uprisings
Dwindling resources
Resources conflicts
Rare earth metals
Depletion of helium
Peak oil
Fracking
Water wars
Climate refugees
N. N is for neurologist.
What does the neurologist say?
“Nothing seems to be wrong.
Your net recall seems normal.
You seem to remember most nouns and the news.
Nothing serious,
No need to worry.”
I don’t quite remember driving here.
This is Bethesda, right?
And your name is…?
P. P is for psychologist.
The P. is silent.
So is the psychologist.
I talk and talk.
My energy level is high today,
even though I got no sleep last night.
I want to write a poem and run a partial marathon.
I love people.
People are so beautiful.
“Only connect,” said E.M. Forster.
Am I talking too much?
How does that make me feel?
Just great! Not like yesterday,
when I wanted to jump into the Potomac
from Key Bridge.
P is also for Potomac.
The psychologist speaks.
I need a new pill.
E. E is for endocrinologist.
What does the endocrinologist say?
“Eat. You’re an enigma.
You are losing weight.
We don’t know why.
We’ve checked everything
and can’t find evidence
of enemies in your endocrine system.
Enjoy some eclairs, eggplant, eggs benedict.
Life is short, endulge!
Hopefully not too short.
O. O is for oncologist.
Oh.
Oh oh.
Electromagnetic Motion Ocean Of Pure Focal Emo-tion.
The Very Sound Of The Creators Verse And Rhythm In Loving Notion Pouring Through The Crystalline Endocrine Indoctrinated Shock Ra Of Shocking Unblocking Colorful Tones In Unmolested Focus And Definition.
To Flow Your Emo-tions Through Your Core And Manifest In Your Intended Notion All Without The Misidentified Horror Of The Wrongfully And Negatively Defined Emotions, One Finds That The Mere Act Of William Tell And That Apple Upon The Head Must Have Been One Hell Of An Interesting Interaction, Yet Instead Of The Reassuring Smiles And Calm Demeanor Of The Archer As They Lock Eyes, What Pray Tell You Think The Eyes Of The Archer Looked Like On That Very Frozen In Time Moment As He Released The Arrow To Guided Love Of Perfected Intent And Delivery Of Safe And Demanding Fortitude Of Action To Defeat All Possible Variable , As If To Need To Bend The Very Laws Of Nature If They Were To Cause An Number Of Odd And Unpredictable Events To Derail The Intent Of The Man Shooting The Apple Off The Head Of His Dear Child's Head, For Not A Bird May Pass Between, Not A Gust Of Wind Be Seen, Not An Earthquake Be Fabled To Accrue, Not A Single Action But The Undeterred Focus Of Absolute Might In Will, His Fee Will In Flight. What Might His Eyes Be Relaying In That Frozen Moment? Reassurance, Pity, Fear, Confidence, Or The Electric Fire Of Electromagnetic Motion Ocean Of Pure Focal Emo-tion To Get The **** Thing Done And Without Foolish ******* Reactions To The Real And True Focus Of Emotion, And Pray Tell, What If The Child Mistook This Look In A Moments Notice And Flinched Out Of Concern That The Father Was Angry With Him? Or Is It Best To Realize The Real Importance Of This Story As It Is The Trust In The Definitions Of Intended Focus And Not Of Simple Trust.? . Yes, Intended Focus Of Emotions Being Trusted As True And Not Negative In Nature, Dear Friend, Yes. So Let Your Soul Be Your Pilot, Let The Flow Of Emotion Be Free And Not Dictated By The Restraints Of Control And Be Seen And Used In Negative Ways, For These Are The Crimes Against All Mankind And The Bigger Part Of Why Spoken Word Is The Very Spell That Binds The Psyche, For The Focus Of Or The Lack Of Focus Of Emotions True Meaning And Purpose Is The Crime Against All Life Indeed. Live Free And Pilot This Love Ship Successfully By No Longer Defining Self By The Ways And Means That Have Caused Us To Fear Our Own Power To Move Mountains, And Kept Us All Mustard Seeds When We Are Truly Far More Than You Can Believe. Feel Free, Yes, By All Means Feel Free.
Vespertine, fatal dream
Mistress conjuring shapes of night
Seventeen little fiends
Elegy for a demon’s plight
Alone in my study, sitting
before a roaring fire
Visions so ******
they churn desire
With the dead of night
summoning hellish zest
They come to incinerate
my corrosive flesh
The hymns of *St. Lazarus beckon solace
from the cathedral outside
But I linger here in the bowels,
where my ancestral sins reside
Animistic stares gazing through
these dead-soul dreams
Where another horror story is not
always what it seems
Portraits of deceased queens
looked down at me with blackened eyes
Layers of muffled screams
festered while judging my vacant lies
Years before, my grandmother watched
over me as a boy in his bed;
Endless, ambiguous rhymes of prayer
are what she often said.
She promised to ban the spirits
that steadily linger
But dark twisting hands
outreached and took her
The monsters and invisible abominations
have always been here
Following my whereabouts,
watching me year after year
Subtle ghosts keeping my heart
and house cold
I sat and waited for what my
icy breath foretold
The dreams, the demons, the ghosts
all that severed me
From experiencing the love of flesh
I so forever longed to see
Came the hour the church bells rang and tolled
The dread of things to come
The moans and cries had begun
From lissome shadows and corridors
Like Charon beating souls with oars
Creeping evil fled
to the refuge of my home
To reap the sins
that my family had sewn
The rippling, screeching strings
of a malevolent orchestra
Scored and produced themes
worthy of infernal Sumatra
The flames in the fireplace
surged a green incendiary wall
From the hell mouth jaw emerged
a dark figure I saw.
Mother Mephistopheles,
clad in silvery pieces with a pale face
Manifesting atrocities, her emerald eyes
welcoming our embrace
I backed away from the sights in,
my trance lost in her glimmer
But the noises and choir peaked
in a swarming fit for a sinner
In a gush of surrounding ash, Father Selaphiel materialized
The otherworld lovers reunited,
their bond revitalized.
“We come unto thee, Son of Faust, heir to Blake.”
They said in unison like a choral demon snake
“Create a fleshling worthy of a child, of many in one
So the deeds of your family’s sins can be undone.”
I stared at the figures with execrable bewilderment
Fearing my sanity had seeped through my temperament
They threaten my eternal existence with continued torment
A living anguish that would solidify my hell-bound descent
“What must be done?” I asked these surrogate advisers
And they instructed
A body made from flesh and metal
Of dead and living components
Blessed and cursed
From God and Satan
Men and creature
Using their collected powers
to merge with the night
I swept across the villages
and cities to obtain the materials
Now all these years, I’ve wondered
Why my medical expertise had been put to waste
“Did the demons prevent me?” I pondered
“Or did they aid me?” I concluded in my haste
Innocent or not, I claimed what I needed
To rid myself of the terrors deep-seated.
A steel-woven chest piece
and half-incinerated cadaver
Twenty feet of large intestines;
boys, girls didn’t matter
Shelled-out cranial cavity
with cerebral cortex to match
Mixing bladders and gallbladders
worth its catch
Punctured spleens and insolent creams
Circulatory, digestive, endocrine,
Iron bones, infused tendons mount
Smells and rancid odors spilling out
Guts, pus, worms and maggoty brains
Boiling in holy water with dried remains
Sacks of chain mail and velveteen potions
Seething concoctions conflate emotions
Patches of caustic skin made like adamant leather
Bolted with steel fingered brutally severed
Into gauntlet armor, this mechanized abomination
Personifying my sickened, wailing degradation
I showed Father and Mother my life’s work and creation
A flesh-iron shell waiting, they stood with appreciation
“Vespertine…” they called to the collage of my work
They petted its face while the shadows continued to lurk
Seventeen little fiends and creatures
appeared and surround
The moon shined through the glass
and the room around
The Seventeen shadow children became smoke and entered the monster
Now a being both ethereal and corporeal
My sins and demons locked in my own creation
Mother Mephistopheles and Father Selaphiel
Left Vespertine in my care
All that plagued me
All that haunted me
Personified, solidified
And barely alive.
My half-dead servant.
and Halloween child
Melatonin is a conduit,
a flux for regeneration;
an endocrine neurohormone
that really only likes to secrete
when the Eyes are not stimulated;
that is to say
Sleep and Meditation
in this way
are Medicine of the Body.
Sleep more;
******, Self!
Sleep more.
If not, at least
Meditate more.
I need a
hair cut delilah
and a shave- but ephedrine?
endocrine? disorder
and testosterone soars
I am what chemical?
what neurological miracles?
an infamy
in synapse symphonies.
a biological fool,
short wired fused-
refused the complex misfire
when estrogen fuss
messes with my desires.
Your Endocrine System plays
a major role in this day and time because these
Glands are your Energy transformers knows as the
“Seats of Light” also known to our Ancient African
Egyptian Ancestors as “Arushaat” and well known
today as Chakras. These Glands or Chakras known as
“Energy Seats” or “Wheels of Life”, is one of the
major ways this “BLACK LIGHT ENERGY” enters your
Body and then transduces this Light frequency and
vibration throughout your Whole Body System.
there's much gesture in thinking out the nonsensical,
the un-thinkable - the un-pardonable - with sheer gusto
you tend to think out the unsolvable -
the nonsense people are afraid to
think about - the impractical -
and that's for one reason alone -
it doesn't create real problems.
you do not engage with real struggles
people encounter - because by doing
all the above stated. you are not the one
who says to a person: you can't do this,
and you can't to that.
which is why i don't understand
the English aversion toward philosophy:
say the word, and the English immediately
succumb to the notion of pedantry and
snobbism - when in fact: it's hardly that -
perpetually philosophers entertain
themselves with invoking awe, as with ageing,
and seeing the many pitfalls of romance
and comedy and tragedy. awe becomes
very hard to find. it's simulated ignorance
in a way. for example Heidegger championing
Aristotle is a gesture intended in this direction -
and his concept of dasein is another
way to stage a coup against the world.
it's an antithesis to what would otherwise
be regarded as activism. or more piquantly:
hedonistic activism, which primarily encompasses
staging a higher moral authority -
but never reaching for the fist making a signature
for the cause. that phrase: just empty words.
and humble pie. well. if you're a bachelor,
have this instilled aversion toward having a private
relationship with women: suitor - Kierkegaard -
well. you are bound to create pointless problems.
because. to be honest. you'd rather throw
"imaginary" problems into the metaphysical arena
than sit there. as a competent English gentleman
and speak of philosophy with about two or
three terms. reality. god. monkey.
or at a chessboard with a desire to provoke
a telekinetic pandemonium.. x-men apocalypse and
all that ****** imagery.
it's odd. but it's just so.
the English had an idyllic life,
as any island dwellers might.
which is why they don't like impractical problems.
because they blabber about practical solutions,
to practical problems. that never get solved,
i.e. engrossed in more politics than anything:
the English have no ear for philosophy -
the mere word frightens them should anyone admit
to being the stated adherent: for god's sake,
the Scots are perceived as barbarians with the
deep-friend Mars bars (and pizzas) - but Hume
rang the eardrum in Kant's ear. and wallah!
a new chapter. Locke? only Darwinism,
popularised with images, as they say:
best leave these skeletons in the closet.
what am i working up toward?
well. it's a bit specific.
first. the easiest proof
of solipsism. a crowded train. someone farts.
guess what. the person who farted is
the only person on the train who appreciates the stink.
hence: the theory - you like your own -
hence the abstract of the self, competing for a theory,
the self - as an optical itinerary: from head to foot,
from hand to toe - a long list of self-serving
accomplishments in detailing all acquired
difference. but it's not about that.
for all the reasons that life can become perfect.
at precisely that moment people began to
philosophise - and that condemnation
of reading a book on the topic in youth
rather than old age? well. the glory of old age
is kinda slipping away. if not now? when?
obviously you might jump the wagon too eagerly.
but at least you'll soon realise how
a philosophy book (excluding Plato) can actually
help you in forming a dialogue -
i think that's what they teach primarily,
the art of dialogue. not the art of persuasive speaking
(rhetoric) - but the art of dialogue. after all.
Plato. right? all dialogue.
and they do: it only takes one book
in this literary region, i became convinced of it
after only being introduced to the subject area quiet late
in life (21). prior to that? fiction and poetry.
and science. nothing else.
like a fish to water.
the necessary 21 years of strain having avoided the subject
(not on purpose, mind you).
yes, a glorification, why not?
it's because these nonsensical problems arrive
as a reflection of a defence mechanism.
the English don't like "too many words" or
the continental verbiage they coin as the psychiatric
phrase word salad - precisely because, sometimes,
language is not about entertaining someone with
tragic choke-jokes and songs.
great singers, great comedians,
great engineers. but in this field? obnoxious *****.
the English are the first instigators of
enshrining a quicksand pit of a person's
esteem in his ability to use and comprehend language,
primarily because they can't comprehend
the complexity of language being thus expressed
they immediately conscript against him
this. odd. quack-wacky need to teach
the person in question refer himself to the Jane Austen
clinic of correct language parameters -
nothing beyond! nothing foreign and
original! we need novelists who only travel in
straight lines (preferably on a Benelux plateau)
and never dazzle with a tarantula bite of
disorientation (akin to the cut-up method).
and you will find that the English are primarily
concerned with making people suspicious of
their sanity. strange. i once had a work-horse
work ethic and that became undermined,
then my use of language became undermined
because, as already stated: the English don't
do impractical things with their thought:
it has to be practical.
like the Germans and time. everything has to be
efficient. or the Japanese and space (*******
cardboard sized hotel rooms).
which brings me to the point of my
original intention:
deleuze's and guattari's searching ambition -
the anti-oedipus, or: body-without-organs.
in turn the dark ages of Cartesian thinking (in England)
or how mental health is somehow a lesser
health to physical health -
sweat. and exocrine glands v. endocrine glands.
explanation>
i'm just proposing what i dare believe
to be a thought-object, or more precisely a
thought-***** -
no point looking for a shortcut with this,
it's either the sort of verbiage compound you'll
reason with. or you'll treat it as *******.
as ever, whether that's investing in
a gym membership and a suitable diet.
you won't get the ****** six-pack on your torso.
this concept is reserved for what i find problematic
in mental ailments - which, in turn. somehow,
"miraculously" translate into physical ailments -
but of course, amputees get the priority seats
in the eyes of every Jack and Dolly. because it's easier
that way.
my back-reading in psychiatry? well,
it's not exactly limited. on the plus side -
a theory is nothing more than a placebo trial -
you're not thinking about it being effective,
that's the default point of applying thinking where
pharmacology cures are pretty crap and its side-effects
catastrophic. and talking therapy ends up being
a monologue with a table filled by notes with single
words on them and being asked: to identify their meaning.
anyone who has experienced these practices
can also say: i'm actually conscious you're making me
feel like a ******* ******. you've just insulted my
intelligence. and i'm back to square one at kindergarten.
have you ever watched you-tube frustrations?
well. a thought-***** has nothing to do with
that map of the brain.
feeling goes here,
seeing goes here. a mash-up and a mess akin
to the map of the European union.
because some rich boy scumbag drew it
in crayon at the beginning of the 20th century means
it has to be right.
but if i treat thinking as a thought-*****,
i know how the ***** works.
a heart is a muscular pump.
the stomach is a digestive acid swamp.
the esophagus is stretch-armstrong.
should i feel guilty writing about this?
should i? touchy subject? well. you won't
find any pills around here. well, apart from the sleeping
pills. they're sacred (to me, at least, as if the bourbon,
but that's my private affair. you walk down this
route: it heals me. not necessarily you) -
this is to simply end the whole pseudo-Cartesian dichotomy
of philosophy popularised by psychology and
psychiatry - for these two areas are bound to simply
popularise philosophy. and given that most people
don't read a book in that area. it's easier to manipulate
people in therapy with the knowledge passed down
from on high.
and it's there.
the dichotomy parallelism is primarily due to the fact that
most people think of the brain with two categories:
a. when physical pain strikes it (a headache)
and b. when physical pain is absent (with what ease
they think).
the problem lies in the perception of b.,
most people can conceptualise that there's something
deeper than the raw physicality of things.
i do remember times when i encountered that
ease of thinking.
i experienced it.
it was there. ****, i lost it. but that provided me with
an un-inhibitory trance of a writing capacity.
the question is. how can merely thinking be painful?
most mental health problems never ask this:
thinking is painful.
isn't that what most melancholics
state, but with a more emotional language of
feelings and emotions?
if the thought-***** is damaged.
then all thinking coming from this compartment of the brain
will be painful.
so what sort of paracetamol
do you take? it's not as easy as being prescribed
high-blood pressure pills.
popping pills like that
you're only escaping a conscious moment of what
an automated ***** feels