חמוד כושל ומבשל

it seemed to me for a moment there that our thoughts may be more organically directed than we tend to think.
nothing new is created from just pure imagination.
lies.
In every comprehensible lie there is a truth.
is this comforting or scary to you?
our brain would not be able to create nor understand a single idea which is truly unreal (can't be acheived in reality).
We can only mix and match... just like our damn Genes.
nobody can create a different numbering system, one which can't be programmed to an existing computer to work.
and still numbers themselves aren't even supposed to exist. Yet apperantly our body needs them to connect some of it's fancy patterns.
yes, human ideas claimed to be unreal are usually a metaphor, which is just another way of communicating reality-possibile ideas.
when they seem useful they're called "metaphors". when they don't they're called "brain junk".
my body uses numbers, ideas, ones extended from it's own rigorous death, in a desperate attempt.
the patterns can only be converted to the words: "now I satisfy great appetite"
stepping on the smaller bridges it wanders into the unknown
I regularely hold a step just to try and make sense what the fuck's going on