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Frontal Lobe
July 19, 2008
Tongue curls around a language
That my body is enraptured in
A cocoon of bliss
Blindly I move to an element- it is,
Seductive and warm, my pink haze
I find myself lost in a foreign language
Enraptured in the culture of another creation
The knowledge detrimental to a quaint fabrication
A pace so jagged and accelerated
I succumb to the sound
Coursing through veins inert
Explosive as particles diverged
Water and fire epically converged
Into the likes of something never known before
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