One of the most underrated emotions.
Sitting with my hands held above a typewriter...
Ma brain contained inside the shell is
Nothing but nothing stirring.
The cobwebs attach my head to my hands
Which in turn are attached to the keys.
Looking out from ma eyes 3cm is as far as I can see
Looking at the paper brought up to meet the sight
Bleached white nothingness
Suddenly a complete unadulterated feeling of
Personal feelings never come into boredom.
The eyes are attached to the finger,
Are attached to anything within easy reach.
The actions of the body are nil to the brain.
The numbness inside is not exactly felt
But perceived as being an action which will lead to nil.
Except they're tighter and more deadly
And taste limited to a few munchings of a few sharp