Sing a Stab of Six Pensive Senses

Superlicious. Superbulent. My two neologisms for the Superbowl Weekend.

Sleepy shaky. Serotonin congregating in the openness of what is my brain. Serenity. Seeking it is a joyful climb; a tearful slide. Sleeping will synthesize these drugs so that I'll smile more. A smile is contagious because it spreads joy and hides a tale simultaneously. I should have let my eyes stay shut when I closed them three quarters ago. Instead, I insisted on getting up and moving.

Rossi who? An I.O.U. lingers out there in a text message. If Jeremy could just turn off the mind long enough to go with the flow I probably wouldn't be so interesting to myself.

Brandon beckons some of these fiery synapses. My head feels like it's burning inside, but not like an ache or a pressure longing for a valve to be turned. It is just not used to so many alterations so quickly. In time, I'll remember how to allow these things to coarse on this course I'm on.

I hope to dream tonight.
I hope to wake with that smile.

It's not the same; unable to feel the breathing beside me.