The Art of Receiving Information

Breathing through optical lenses to inflate
respirate life deep into cerebral lungs,
an immune balloon fueled by shock
molecules of mystery that build the uknown tomorrow
the unexpected moment of lift
where lids and lashes cease to exsist.
Dialation, breathe deep, can't blink
possibly choke on the essence of existence with nothing to wash it down.
Don't think.
Fear is a head stone, a blank mental slate,
a chisel and hammer are the breeze that blow the blades,
which see more light, that grow
leaving only questions of sediment, bricks of curiostiy.
No light, respiration is pressure,
like compact clay, layers of heat and weight
a state in which lids and lashes are subterranean catacombs
after the value has been plundered.