Die Welträtsel: unresolve(able) harmonic progression

And/Or, "My Own Personal BiologicoMusico Recapitulation Theory"

Some feelings are harder to move past than others, like distracting anticipation humming around your mind's periphery, ruby-throated like, or mortal fear grabbing us by our peter pan collar or hanging us up by our hoodie, whatever satisfies your sartorial scheme.  But no matter the quantity of hours and resources and energies devoted to ignoring and/or indulging and/or confronting our fear and/or our loathing, we really all must admit that, functionally speaking:

when we arrive

at the inflection point

the point where the

fiberopticnanoscalpeldeadlylazer

finally draws

so infinitesimally

close to my skin

so oscillatingly close

kissingly close

almost-all-the-goddamn-way

to breaking and drawing

up and out

my indefatigable

blood

that it actually does

 well, at that point

the point where curvature changes

or where it vanishes altogether

when we finally get to that point?

well, at that point

we are already bored

But if it's not too much to ask, please kiss my forehead and both my drug-heavy eyelids and wish well my nerves and axons.  Because I'm just like all the other kids and want to be: hard and soft and fluid and unshakeable, immortal, yours, forever fertile and ceaselessly concupiscent.  And I cosmically reject any lab-coated attempts to make me even one ounce less so.  Grab the keys, we're leaving, DAMA-style!  Spoiler alert: lol, none of us ever survive.  LOL.

While I was on a mindweb-wiki-reference hunt for my escaped word 'sartorial,' I discovered that there is such a thing as an anti-suicide smock.  I think "Anti-Suicide Smock" would make a very nice title for a song we will consider releasing, but won't, on our first EP.  But I was too creeped out to do an image search.  It's funny to me how, as I grow older, I only grow more confident that I don't know anything, and, in so doing, grow more able and skilled in the fine art of dealing.  Maybe because it's already the past?  Here's the first verse:

If you're a skeptic/ all you have is hope/ and even that/ you aren't so sure about/ which is our nexus/ the seriously absurd/ and/or the absurdly serious

And that is only if we grant, for the sake of love and happiness and comedy and argument and good manners and best fit, that there is even such a thing as nexus; and, further still, that we would know it if we saw it.  You can come up with the hook; I trust you to do good work.

Earlier this afternoon, I dreamed about large hypodermic needles and the exact chemical composition of the solution in them and being on a tropical island with you and then I dreamed that I told you about that dream and; right now I could hope for a lot of things to come to pass but

right now
at this point
all I hope
is that you
are not already bored
and/or
moving past the feeling