My sense of smell

My olfactory sings silent songs to my brain

Your first and last breath of life comes past me; and I never forget.

I sit silently above your mouth at the base of your ancient brain, known as your serpent brain, and I monitor every breath for your survival—from birth to death. You never hear me as I talk and sing to your brain.

I’m hardwired into your sex organs and sweat glands.

Many of your problems could be avoided if you would put your sweaty undershirt under her pillow and see if she can tolerate your smell; without the heat of passion. You can do the same thing with your pillow; you can get some sense of her smell without the perfume and without your passions overriding your normal cautions.

I serve as your instinct or intuition, and you never know it.

I alert you to dangers, like smoke in the night, or when the hairs on your neck stand up when harm is near. I think of this as my guardian angel or the Holly Ghost.

And when you take your final breath I too will bow out.