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I’m told psychiatrists don’t bother anymore With talking or listening to Clients because Truth can be found in the soup Of chemicals in the brain And feelings are merely Synapses lighting up after The sudden release of All that dopamine Which can make us crazy if we’re Not careful and my Love for you is merely Partner preference determined By oxytocin and Dopamine dancing In the hallways of attachment Behaviors and I imagine It’s a tango they’re doing While vasopressin in the ventral Pallidum mediates our partnership and my Fascination with that small place Where your butt curves And forms your back Is modulated in the nucleus accumbens While the stirring I feel When you catch my glance And look down and slowly raise Your gaze to meet mine Shows only my high levels Of cortisol and not anything Specifically metaphysical.
Copyright 2020 Michael Simms
Michael Simms is the founding editor of Vox Populi, Autumn House Press, and Coal Hill Review.