neuron flash in fifty watts pinpointing to the streetlight limbo. told me it was chemistry why i behave like this. why i move in misdirected impulse and speak in scrambled clusters of white noise. traction is not a term of endearment. death is an experiment best conducted face down. vertigo may not include spinning, but it ought to. i am languid in the puddle, face full of concrete cellophane. don't say a single word unless you speak with a drowning tongue. i am not listening. i am not focusing. my eyes have sunk and set and i am invincible. i'm water proof. someone said that heaven is just coincidental collision of electrons. this is not the time for touching me. i am a conduit changing colors, frantic humming televisions, conducting city spasms, shorting voltage like a fuse. the elevating vibrations of hysteria, amplified by the armor of the tarn. flashing lights paint veins across the sky. and everyone along the roadside just wants to see a saint. the serenity of sirens, the allure of the femme fatale. her defibrillator hands can't stop me now. i feel quite all right

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