Electro-pulse Feel

I'm getting that electro pulse feel
Penetrating my ear drum it's so unreal

Call it Jazz call it electro call it what you will
Stimulating synaptic transmissions seratonin is the main meal
Causing uncontrollable movements my computer's on overload
Breaking into an interpretative dance as if it were my last chance
A symphony of chaos, of wood and steel
An orgy of electronic pulses sometimes unpredictable

Penetrating my soul
A freedom unparalleled and
An addiction so intense
I can't sit still
The paradox has been revealed
I've been incarcerated and liberated by the electro-pulse feel

Compute This

Searching into my mental database of stored self-images
I cannot find the keyword that I seek
All that comes up in my search for purpose is a list
A collection of self-constructed, separate identities
All housed under the same mainframe
How can this situation be?

Purpose is obscured by perspectives
My grand vision is smaller than it may seem
The smallest decisions produce the most profound effects
My small vision is now grander than it seemed

And the miscalculations this computer has made
Can never be erased
A road map of untaught lessons
When will I learn them?
I can only hope that one day I will see
The true computer that lies in me

Choice

Are we all going to the same place in the end?

If so, why then should you justify your actions?

Why then should you help others?

Why then should you live at all?

Sometimes the question may not be why, but rather

Why not?

Why not justify your actions?

Why not help others?

Why not live?

Why not find some inner happiness in this temporal existence?

It is then not a matter of why or why not, but a matter of Choice.

Penser

Behind this skin, this flesh, these bones

Are thoughts, abstractions, ideas, furiously fleeting from the self

Where do they go? Where do I find them?

I try to catch them as they dissipate into obscurity

Never to be found, lost, dead

Sometimes reborn, repackaged, but are they the same?