tribute to Dr. Timothy Leary

Focusing on the itch in the side of my head and my lucidity, my ability to focus, my sight, to a degree, all fluctuate like breath. I feel pain in my tongue and I am not sure if I just did that or earlier. Frustrated that my thoughts run so fast, eased, comforted by the knowledge that they rotate, come around, with--

Wander away when a word fails to interest me. Engaged in epic tails, heart-wrenching, tails of heartache. Each action, each thought, connected as they are blown apart. I need scissors. 61.

Feeling changes in my physiology, my biology. Heart thunders, or stills as the world settles. Aware of the dulled (or attention deficit?) nerves, achy toenails, dry eyes. A throat, dulled for sure, rumbles with stomach sounds tasted, dimly, and heard, most.

Brief seconds of focus exploding. Times when, despite it all, everything made sense.

And the morning after. Such pressure, coupled with the still-present inability to focus, to separate any one thing from anything else. I'll be able to function today, possibly even pass it off as sleep deprivation, but it won't be pleasant.

Self-discovery through self-exploration...