prefrontal cortex

Facts, as in semantic memory, need differ only from the events of episodic memory in that they are removed from a specific moment or place. Once the pink elephant is displaced from the jungle hideaway in which you had a cup of tea with him one night last summer, he becomes reduced to the generic thought that elephants are pink. Damage to the area where facts have been personalized into events by time and space referencing would not actually destroy memory itself but rather would uncouple facts from the contexts in which they occurred. Specific events would be reduced to mere generic facts in that they would have no special or unique features in time and space.

"for 'tis the mind that makes the body rich,

And as the sun breaks through the darkest clouds,

So honour peereth in the meanest habit.

What, is the jay more precious than the lark

Because his feathers are more beautiful? "

as the smoke dances with the air modulating through reality

the murderous words of the wall

come seeping through

telling me something

i've been searching for

that i forgot long ago

there's a killer on the loose

shrill death rattle laugh

i've heard it before

& i hope i hear it again

he will make me

or he will break me

i searched through my personalities

tried to find the one he likes

before the killer strikes.

photograph: louis macdonald.

AND there came one of the seven angels which had the seven vials, & talked with me, saying unto me, Come hither; I will shew unto thee the judgement of the great whore that sitteth upon many waters:

With whom the kings of the Earth have committed fornication, & the inhabitants of the Earth have been made drunk with the wine of her fornication.

So he carried me away in the spirit into the wilderness: & I saw a woman sit upon a scarlet coloured beast, full of names of blasphemy, having seven heads & ten horns.

And the woman was arrayed in purple & scarlet colour, & glittering with gold & precious stones & pearls, having a golden cup in her hand full of abominations & filthiness of her fornication:

And upon her forehead was a name written

MYSTERY, BABYLON THE GREAT, THE MOTHER OF HARLOTS & ABOMINATIONS OF THE EARTH.

And I saw the woman drunken with the blood of the saints, & with the blood of the martyrs of Jesus: & when I saw her, I wondered with great admiration.

.

I was like a glass house,

ready to break into a thousand pieces

but you saw right through me.

I realize now, everything is empty,

nothing is as it seems

'cause it was all an illusion,

just another paranoid delusion.

he is gone.

He is dead & gone, lady. He is dead & gone; At his head a grass green turf, at his heels a stone. Pray you, mark. White his shroud as the mountain snow. Larded with sweet flowers, which bewept to the grave did go; with true-love showers. Well God 'ild you! They say the owl was a baker's daughter. Lord, we know what we are, but know not what we may be. God be at your table! Pray you, let's have no words of this; but when they ask you what it means, say you this: To-morrow is Saint Valentine's day, All in the morning bedtime, A I a maid at our window, To be our Valentine. Then up he rose, & he donn'd his clothes, & dupp'd the chamber-door; Let in the maid, that out a maid Never departed more. Indeed, la, without an oath, I'll make an end on't: By Gis & by Saint Charity, Alack, & fie for shame! Young men will do't, if they come to't; By cock, they are to blame. Quoth she, before you tumbled me, You promised me to wed. So would I ha' done, by yonder sun, An thou hadst not come to my bed. They bore him barefaced on the bier; Hey non nonny, nonny, hey nonny; & in his grave rain'd many a tear:-- Fare you well, my dove! You must sing a-down a-down, An you call him a-down-a. O, how the wheel becomes it! It is the false steward, that stole his master's daughter. There's rosemary, thats for remembrance; pray, love, remember: & there is pansies. that's for thoughts. There's fennel for you, & columbines: there's rue for you; & here's some for me: we may call it herb-grace o' Sundays: O you must wear your rue with a difference. There's a daisy: I would give you some violets, but they withered all when my father died: they say he made a good end,-- For bonny sweet Robin is all my joy. & will he not come again? & will he not come again? No, no, he is dead: Go to thy death-bed: He never will come again. His beard was as white as snow, All flaxen was his poll: He is gone, he is gone, & we cast away moan: God ha' mercy on his soul! & of all Christian souls, I pray God.

God be wi' ye.

today I found a baby's glove.

& through wax seals & padlocks

a hand through my ribcage

past the choking

I saw palms & fingers grasping

shoulders

collarbones

crushing

I imagine myself

hacking desperately at a sea of appendages

forward & right

freeing myself like a butcher

feeling the mash of bone & sinew

running slowly down the front of my body

& I couldn't take it anymore

I said I've got to go

I've got to get out of here

& I ran down the street

I've got to get out of here

I've got to go

I've got to go

my friend, Jenny Jones.

I could've sworn I heard/ them whispering in my ear/ their words so painful & sad/ I didn't want to hear/ I'm lost inside my mind/ reality seems so far away/ I feel I can explain this/ but it's impossible to say/ I start rocking back & forth/ swaying with the wind/ trying to calm the pain/ that bites me deep within/ I know I'm in here somewhere/ where are you?/ I see you standing next to me/ but I don't think it's true/I feel like I am being/ watched by everyone/ I wonder if they can hear/ my thoughts as they quickly run/ my head spins in circles/ I can't tell if this is real/ the doctors take my blood/ but their needles I can't feel/ I start crying, but inside/ I'm laughing at myself/ I start to think I'm not/ human or like anybody else/ I see shadows jump around/ on the ceilings as I lay in bed/ they dance around as I try to/ convince myself its all in my head/ I can't fall asleep/ my eyes cannot stay closed/ gravity is crushing down into me/ tearing apart my bones/ I rise out of my body/ & start to float around/ I am still laying paralyzed in bed/ but my soul moves about/ everything is a blur/ things become unclear/ I begin to converse with these/ voices that I hear/ they become my friends/ the only ones truly there/ even though they taunt me/ underneath they care/ they tell me nothing is real/ everything is made-belief/ the only way I can escape this place/is if I get up & leave/ my eyes pull towards the pills/ the doctor gave to me/ he said they would make me well/ but I still feel crazy/ maybe he was trying/ to give me a sign/ the only way to cure myself/ suicide/ have I lost myself forever?/ I don't remember life before this/ I never hurt myself/ why are there cuts on my wrist?/ the doctors strap me down/ in the bed I'm forced to stay/ "I never harmed myself"/ "It was all a big mistake"/ I think this is all nightmare/ & I will wake up soon/ but I haven't been to sleep all night/ & it's now the afternoon/ what have I done to myself?/ why has this happened to me?/ what is wrong inside my brain?/ Is this who I'm meant to be?/ I can't communicate/ anymore to anyone/ I can't finish a sentence/ that I haven't even begun/ my thoughts are scattered/ my brain's had enough/ it feels though my mind/ walked away & just shut off/ they've got a hold of me/ they're taking me away/ I will return back to myself/ someday/ they put me in a room/ why is it so dark?/ where are all the windows?/ why can't I move my arms?/ the voices scream in my head/ I tell them to quiet down/ they laugh at me more/ my sanity they drown/ I try to make a deal with them/ I tell them to be good/ so I can get out of here/ & do the things they ask me to do/ they agree that's fine/ & give me back my mind/ I am finally free of this/ but they'll be back in time/

A Wolf

I don't want your apology.

I just want your love.

Let me out. Let me out.

I want to die.

mary. goes. round.

.

creation.

I don't read minds.

I write them.