I Am Sensitive Energy For the People

Do you perceive fantastic, exotic things that other people can't —
like non-corporeal tongue fungus in Hindus?

Do you sense things that you couldn't — or shouldn’t — logically sense?
Like intangible clouds of Irritable Bowel Syndrome in malls?

Do you feel the pain of the world within your own heart,
manifesting as cat flatulence?

As a highly sensitive person you may know you are different.
After a while, you may be aware that others think you are stupid,
or have stupid ideas: an envied “normal person” just sees
a three-bean salad, but you — a creative, highly sensitive person —
probably see Sam Peckinpah judging the
“Miss Tiny Tot of Dallas Pageant”
in front of a bullfight for vacuum cleaners,
and maybe much, much more.
Like perhaps three white people who are not LL Cool J —
one of them being Bob Dylan and the other two being
a pole-dancing Madame Blavatsky on top of Edgar Cayce —
receiving a brain transplant from a vending machine
for ten cents worth of “Radar Love.”
Or Jamaican children specially rendered into a pickled herring paste
and served on crackers in Jamaica.
Whatever.

It’s not peaceful or calming when we air out the unconscious mind.
For example, in making titanium jewelry we may initiate
a cascade of tortoises.