Sweet Torment

Remembering faces or places
ignites the same neurons
as actually seeing them.

If you can manufacture the mind
why do you need reality?
If time remembered can run adrenalin—
why bother with exertion?
If the excitement of past happenings
is clear and lucid
why pressure the present?
If the momentum of a previous event
can disturb the hormones—
why exercise the future?
If the thrill of yesterdays
is preferential—
why seek new sequences?
If the anticipation tingles more
than the occurrence—
why not avoid disappointment?
If you can manifest a tree of memory blooms
why not indulge in reminiscences?

In a brain torched by archaic thought—
and a life held together by inertia and apathy—
you have the sweet torment of senility.