Morning chemistry rises, mixing board faders, norepinephrine floods the reuptake gates, vapor coils, acetylcholine sparks, dopamine loops back on itself, refusing exit.
Bitter darkness blocks adenosine’s sleep, white phosphate powder charges ATP factories, the couch pulls with gravity of dying stars, but these molecules sing as Tesla coils do.
Blood pumps, 808s through warehouse walls, thoughts skip their own recycling bins, turn into sequences, player pianos reading punch cards of pure intention.
Robot music: wasps in metal lungs, car factories dreaming, dial-up learning to sing, neurons refusing to vacuum their own transmitters, cellular engines burning phosphocreatine, beats that march as ants carrying crumbs of consciousness back home.
Without the stack, silence spreads oil on water, receptors empty as unpowered speakers, dead as venues after last call.