What It’s Like to be Me

DSC00147There is a minuscule woman

Who rides on top of my neurons

She is an instigator by trade

A powerful figure of means

She carries with her a great hammer

And hanging from her belt is a chissle

Her ears are her strongest organ

But her arms are thick corded muscle

From swinging her hammer and chissle

Her residence lies deep within my temporal lobe

Her job focuses on what flows through my primary auditory cortex

As she sets up office in my superior temporal gyrus

The intersection of what I hear and what gets processed

The crossroads of the ear and the brain

The woman takes great pride in her work

She is always generating new protocols and processes

She works from pre-dawn to midnight and often sleeps for no longer than an hour

During her breaks she studies the temporal lobe like a book

Learning even new ways of accomplishing her purpose

She often travels to the neighboring lobes to ensure her labor has not been in vain

She takes pride in the ways she wreaks havoc on the entire organ

My brain is like a cross between an IT project and a construction site

It’s quite simple, her task is to rewire, reroute, scramble, reconfigure,

Infuse with anxiety all the messages that come her way

Her goal is to make me so afraid that I begin to accept the fear that is

The candy wrapper around the words ,  and that I should not toss it away and eat

But save the treat in my pocket for awhile. Time for an eviction notice.





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