We Digidance

I look into the lens to see your soul.
I want what I see, not the whole.
I see mentally, imagining you with my image
and watch your visage vis a lightning trickle.

Track my patterns across your retina
(speakers patter neural paths).
Basilar math man's this mannequin's axon strings,
imposing voltage on our opiate-overwhelmed selves.

Tune in to the sodium channel,
a circuit to board,
checkered with textures like audible flannel
minds waving full-bore.