Neurons and bits,
similar but all different in the information projected.
the controlled response,
a shell versus the open door.
What hides in the text I send?
Everyone reads the same but hears it
in a dozen different voices.
Here I am the child,
there I am the adult;
there I hold my tongue, there I know what to say,
there I hide until I know what to say.
Here is the zebra, here is where
I throw childish fodder before children.
There I pounce. There a lie is a lie
and everyone will find out,
here a lie is clever: Here a lie will win the day.
The anecdotal reigns supreme.
I want to learn to sew.
I want to find my way to bridge these informations,
thread a line between my black and gray masks. Hammer out the
white, make the gray.