The hairs stand
at attention
awaiting the next order
from the barking synapses.
Free will?
Don't make me laugh.
Choke down another
tablet for your pain.
Succumb to the will
of your manipulated
subconscious.
This is what you are doing.
This is what you are
supposed to do.
You are given form
you are given a higher sense
of order.
You are given
your thoughts...
but only to some degree.
There is an existence
thriving
in the underbelly of this
mycelium-like
network of neurons.
Your soul struggles
under the pressure
of your mind
and heart.
It holds them up
as if it were Atlas
straining with the weight of the world.
