Your History, Your Future, Your Friend

Floating, the pain becomes detached
And floats with me
It’s not the same
Because I can see it
It’s a kind of wonder
As old as consciousness,
Maybe older.
I think it is always there
Mostly attached
Tied to my experience
By the necessity
Of culture
And by it’s mystery
To begin with
I think it might be
The vestigial arm
Of the priority
And pride
Of intellect,
Creating attachment to everything
Naming everything
The brain cannot experience
It’s a calculator and
Right now
That’s how we choose
To experience our life
And because you can’t forget
About the numbers when you’re
Doing math
You can’t see your pain for what it is,
Your history
Your future
Your friend

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