>less than multiplication%

sometimes like today, the never of always
when colors force their way into my consciousness
time is not another question,
the factotum of my nervous system
the ganglia, synapse, electrodes, mitochondria
the automatic currents that control my day
the wherewithal of my senses
the joy of a photograph, the taste of chocolate
the endless manufacturing of word streams
neurotransmissions interruptus
the flow of neurons
the body that is body
yet the wind doesn't touch my skin
and the sound of the ocean is mute
the accidental understanding
of electronic impulses
and every spice is bland
the transmigration to automaton
all meaning is lost--
the spirit in a void,
the force that moves my soul
has silenced.

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