People say they have reasons that keep them going...big reasons...small reasons. Wonder why I keep going though, with reason or without. Most probably because I can't but keep going and I would, if I could stop, put an end to, terminate every business of 'going','moving','living'.
Waking up to the same old selfish angry world that claws and gnaws with its multi-coloured talons, squirming under the harmless looking baggages of expectation and then this self that is given to paroxysms and hysterical rage that builds inisde, seethes inside and then goes back to dormancy...inside...never an outlet, never an outburst that helps , fighting, fighting, fighting with itself and others...to sleep is to die...I wish. And familiar faces and familiar endearments,familiar names and limited free association, familiarity everywhere and such frozen oceans of difference in between...I am running inside a wheel. Nice looking familiar faces with unconditional love make me uncomfortable but they guard my peaceful sleep anyway. Thanks. I love words. They are the prefect examples of detachment.

I am black, bleak and blank
with layers piled in stacks
...cement of neglect
in between.
Do you see a tiny flame?
you imagine I'm sure.
It's all soot,
it's all ash
of a flame that once was.
All left now is a ghostly wick.