‘Twas my late twenties,
Before counselling helped me see.
Witnessing my neurodivergences,
For what they truly were.
Curses.
Each,
Many Swords of Damocles.
Not superpowers,
As once believed.
But there is great power,
In curses.
Applications of magic,
Unique to our blends.
Science,
Helped me see.
Dissociation,
An old holdover from trauma.
So used to piloting this corpse,
From somewhere in orbit.
The fool,
I often fail to use them.
Stretching my own limits.
When I used to run,
The body just needed a rhythm.
The days of music,
Over podcasts,
Were writing days.
Body jogging along,
In tempo with the beat.
Mind –
Happily drifting elsewhere.
Even these virtual reality romps,
Trigger it sometimes.
Body on autopilot.
Brain adrift.
Don’t know much about mind palaces.
My fragmented,
Ghetto Eidetic?
Instant recall,
Via topical triggers.
Goldfish;
Unless focused like a scalpel where I will.
Pushing my awareness to the limits.
The cruel catch twenty two,
Of anxiety disorders.
Eyes peeled.
Ready for consumption.
Fight or flight response,
Dialed to infinity.
Few know what it’s like –
To see everything.
Fewer know the Midas Touch:
That overclocking organic flesh,
Tends to have the same effect,
As our old diesel machines.
Throttle cranked to full.
Power overwhelming.
Limited omniscience,
Is exhausting.
Frying us to a crisp,
Before long.
Pity this addiction to dopamine,
Drives us forwards regardless.
How rare a specimen?
Where marked upon the bell curves,
Of humanity.
As sure as god is a woman,
Fairy tale as she might be –
Religion taught me much.
Dangerous,
For such a fresh reincarnation.
What is it worth,
To have pattern recognition like this?
Haunted as I am,
To hunt for knowledge.
Taking on an impossible task,
To keep myself keen.
Terrified of egomania,
After decades of self loathing.
Martyr,
But no messiah.
Pygmalion Complex,
On full display.
I’ll cherish,
These curses.
Breathing deeply,
Within the miasma.
Letting corruption fill our lungs.
No.
I refuse to languish.
To let my legend rust here,
In obscurity.
Perhaps it has always been,
My responsibility of sorts.
To use my life,
As a lesson.
To leave enough stories behind,
That someone can use them to better themselves.
Long after I’m gone.
Of Savants & Supercomputers.
