Image by Si Scot
That's how long it's been... That's how long everything else has been all consuming. Sometimes I don't know if it's funny or maddening how easy it is for life to open her throat ever-wider and simply swallow me down. Sometimes I wish the tramp would spit...would be easier.
What if the problem is not merely life, but within me. Perhaps I enjoy torment to such a degree that I inject myself into it or linger in its mist, even in daily life. I could also truly believe that I can save everyone. It doesn't matter either way. The point is mute.
My skin itches. It's taut and restless, so I claw at it. There is no true sagacity... The tinge lies deep, yet it feels a breath away. The thing has such glorious claws that pry at quietly laid thoughts. Silent beings rapidly turn to riled prisoners…
I just need to breath. They’ll have none of it. A fish and no water...
