Outward Wits Of New Year's Day

The last whit of senses was drawn, as that evil year did prowl.

The myth of five senses persistent as time’s illusion...did howl.

Touch, taste, hear, see, and smell –outward wits casts a tricky spell.

Are all signals received and interpreted, just who could tell?

Aristotle was wrong! hunger– thirst– time– distributed systems know,

Don't scratch that itchy nose, balance equilibrioception in crane pose.

On my last nerve with this misconception, it makes my skin crawl.

Cutaneous, somatic, visceral, painful nociception, throw a fit and bawl.

We all fall down! Now close your eyes, touch your nose and frown.

Blind proprioception lets you bend over and find your toes, don’t drown.

Are you up or down? Muscles feel tension sensors, lungs stretch.

Jump in with that smell, chemoreceptors sink or swim. Don’t wretch!

Sweet, salty, sour, bitter, umami; vomit reflex kicked in obvious pressure,

Obvious you just threw up a little in your mouth. Slight temperature lesser

The morning after. Color cones, brightness rods, turn off those lights!

Bloody Marys, bacon, eggs sardou on M or P time? Strike firefly, opera night’s

Soprano holds a frozen note forcing magnetoreceptors north an hour,

Once in a minute, twice in a moment! Around the sun– this thing all things devour.