Executive function

The skyscrapers of my consciousness rasp against one another.
An unruly metropolis
An unplotted expanse
Facing out on many byways.

I process altogether too much serotonin,
Must tamp it down,
Or offer it to some wretched meddler content with paltry answers,
One of those hanging about the quays at King tide.

Conspiratorial whispers profligating through secret synapses,
I’m left unconvinced my crack-down on plasticity has enough resolution
To declare a final decision.

Fasten your seat belts,
For we are beginning our final descent into madness.
I have no further need for concentration.
I can hand over my thalamus to
One of the beggars grasping for a second chance in the city market.

Maybe it’s time to hoist the anchor and raise the main.
All we know is that the best actions take place for no reason at all.

Andy Oram
December 27, 2017

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