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Malia Aug 27
Heart beat-beat-beats quick
Like a drumbeat-beat-beat—or tick
Of the clock, sent speedily
From my chest cavity to my amygdala.

All neurons alive,
Just like a ******* fire,
I haven’t felt this
In a long, long time.

I thought all the good ones
Had deserted this place.

But here is a good one,
You.
Johnnie Woods Aug 2018
The trees are amazing creations,
They've taken a dead matter, and formed
It into a shape of branches, twigs
And leaves, which like thoughts absorb the light,
grow, and produce the food,
fueled by the Energy,
the wonderful offspring of the Earth.
Amanda Shelton Jul 2017
You cling to me like cellophane,
wrapping yourself around myself
with your electric forked tongue,
as you drag each of my neurons
out into the world;
exposed they are,
as I am left to feel their
nakedness and chills.

I feel their
bite and electric fields;
their pain has become my friend.

**© 2017 Amanda D Shelton
I suffer from three different disorders that can be very painful. This poem is the best way I can explain it to you. Maybe you can relate, maybe not but that's up to you. Live long and prosper my fellow poets.
Esther Jun 2017
They inject it into your brain
Directly through the skin and through the skull
Don’t even ask about the pain
Anyway, it seeps into the cortex
Lighting up the neurons with memories
What memories?
First piggy back, first pulled tooth, first death wish
Soft stuff springing into sparks
And then oh, the flames
Don’t even ask about the pain
The straining emotion remains, of course
And new connections are made
Stemming phylum connections between
One ethereal feeling to the overwhelming onslaught of
You know, things
Then the frontal lobe takes a break
It sips that stuff and stops
And thinks- we all know where that leads
Detachment and dissociation start dancing
They tango to the dull beat of your heart
It thump thumps and there’s nothing else really
Your brain wakes up every few minutes
The background music playing
And it makes you **** in this weird cold air
Stuff happens, things stay alive
And the injection well
It’s faded the minute it was dispensed
You were never more or less awake
But it’s all still moving slow-quick
Slow down, you say quickly
It speeds up
You’re feeling everything that’s ever been felt
What a rush what an end

Now it ends.
You slouch
You see there isn’t a needle or a pen
Nor a blade of any kind
And the thumps are replaced by heavy thuds
The sound rattling in your ear canal
You inject it into your brain again
Nothing
You get up to brush your teeth and wash your face.
I am nothing but
the expanding universe
within myself

galaxy after galaxy
of twinkling neurons
together in infinity

my eyes exist solely
to reflect starlight
and gain insight into
things that still must be

they sparkle as if man
has suppressed so many
tears for so long that
within my gaze oceans
are waiting

and they shine as if
the light was eternal
Roxxanna Kurtz Feb 2016
I want to be your
inner constellations.
Filling up your head with
stardust and lust;
bright longings that break
your dark thoughts
on lonely nights.

Like a shooting star I'll
burst across neurons,
burning light on
receptors that ache.
Igniting the shimmers of
glimmering memories.

When you look at the stars,
I hope it'll never be the same.
LAlgaravia Feb 2016
Whenever my
perception
gets attached to your
image,
Little flowers blossom
from infinite branches
of my neurons.
Old notes from an old diary
For an old and eternal love.
cassiopeia miel Nov 2015
there’s that quote on the internet that goes, “every cell in the human body replaces itself after 7 years, one day i will have a body that you have never touched,”

and it is false. asides from the fact that many cells need ten years before they’re fully replaced, neurons in the cerebral cortex never do; even if some die, you keep the ones you were born with and my body is clean from your touch, but my mind was not as lucky to escape your poison and day-by-day i erode until i’m left shaking and sobbing, wishing i could rip my own skin off and crack through my skull to peel away layers of my stupid, stubborn, recalcitrant brain.

maybe it was my fault. i should’ve known better than to trust a demon in a man suit, but i was looking at the small flickering coals of you, a fire built at your birth and then forgotten along the way, so you had nearly died even as you lived, so i gently fed the fire and stoked the flames and in return you blazed up in one mighty inferno and scorched me and everything and everyone else around us and it was still i who was contrite, you turned this around on me and it was i who apologized and collapsed crying on the floor.

mom never told me not to play with fire, it’s my own ****** fault i got burned.
Lithium Jun 2015
For what can we hold as our own
but our secrets.
A refuge,
protected by the endless bounds
in labyrinths of corticocircuitry.
An inmasterable code of sporadic impulses delivering refuge
of an imaginable world.

To leap
synapse to synapse
in an abstract journey through the depths of our being.

Our darkest fears,
Our brightest desires
running and clawing their ways into the most superficial layers of conscious thought.

For what do we have
when light exposes the demons
whom linger
and realism paints over the beautiful picture of dreams.

What do we have but variables
in the most insignificant equation of our existence.

And then,
even then,
the beauty of the equation
would be painted
in grey.
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