Dear Brain,

You are the venison

Of my reality, and vis-à-vis.

You are my vice and bane,

My boon, but greatest affliction.

You are both my most lethal predator,

and epitome of impotent prey.

You are the lion's share of homeliness,

Tame and simple.

Yet, at the same time,

you are raging tornado of infinite perplexablity.

In this present moment,

You simultaneously serve as

My painter and paintbrush,

Cryptographer and code,

Consumer and sous chef...

Of my commission-free reality.

Be the experience palatable, insipid, or even putrid,

You chop and grate,

Grill, then sauté

Some googol emotions subconsciously.

You proceed to dish-out copious palates

Of these sensations, with grace,

Invariably yielding a feast that includes every food group.

Every second of every day...

Feeding me vivid elation intertwined with searing pain.

It's been some while since I took the time

Out of your day to say...

Thank you, Brain,

You're pretty cool.