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June 2, 2001

chemical imbalance

Through the window of my study lies a tangled wood.   Hanging vines and twisting ivy ensnare decaying hardwoods and malnourished trees.   It puts me in mind of a brain that long ago collapsed under the weight of its own confusion.   Skewed synapses, vagrant neurons, a river of serotonin dammed and slowed to a trickle.   At certain times of the day, sunlight penetrates my woods and, for a moment, I think the light might spread and order the chaos.   But the light fades quickly and nothing changes.

©  2001 by the beastmaster