Sunday, September 26, 2010

Gray Matter

I am a slave to my organs
I cannot go a day without my bladder calling out
at least 9 times, and that's when I'm dehydrated.

I feel the pangs of hunger roll over me like waves.
It growls, I ignore, it quiets.
Growling a little louder I refuse to listen, then again calm.
My belly shakes the rest of my body, I grab the chips and salsa.

The pain in my tow causes me to hobble around for
several minutes muttering, "Ow ow ow ow ow ow!"
Then of course there is sex, that organ runs my life
more than any other except...

The brain. That one never shuts up.
Always yapping away about all these great ideas,
most of which are completely inconsequential outside the gray matter.
It keeps me awake when I want to sleep.
It talks in different voices like a psychopath.
It argues with itself and feels horrible after a night of drinking, especially tequila.

Yet this gray matter makes sense of the images and sounds I perceive.
Ultimately it is responsible for all my sensations and perceptions.
It finds solutions to many problems.
It allows me to connect with others through language and shared experience.
I am the brain writing through this body to write about myself.
I posses the hand that moves the fingers into doing my bidding.
I am the slave master.
I run the show.


There is one thing that can take over...

instinct.
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