01 December 2010

Adrenaline


Adrenaline speaks with immediacy about purpose and meaning.   He is articulate even with his mouth full. Regardless of the stimulus, adrenaline is the activator, not the match but the flame.  Adrenaline is like music, engrossing with a commanding rhythm underneath it, an undertow of drums.  Flushed with instinct and certainty, the predator pounces; the prey dances and the prey evades.  How does one mop up the mess that makes the lesson memorable without dampening the eros in this exotic charge.  Adrenaline stares you straight in the eyes, with unapologetic candor and--not mincing words--asks for sex, demands it.  Adrenaline is lechery.  Adrenaline is Superman, able to fly, saving buxom blondes from train tracks and babies from jagged stairways.  He slows time so we can wallow in regrets and limitations.  Always waiting just behind us for one final helping, that big gulp of air you will swallow, your last breath, adrenaline provides. 

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