Daily experiment
Layers of valves and currents, surround the background noise in my head. I am lost as a lost passenger can be. I have lost the sense of direction in these aisles and struggle to feel where I am heading to.
It hasn't been much of an awakening for me. It's been more like an exhaustion of possible visions of the future. I've spent innumerable hours on an apparent road to somewhere to never arrive, then to realize I'm not moving at all. I've clearly chosen wrong and so I should deal with the outcome. I shall find boredom.
The advantage is that one can hope there will be another day, which is correct most of the time. I see there are eight stacks of paper, some scribbled with math which is probably wrong. I sense this is some sort of strange poetry.
Suddenly, humanity burns in your hands after a long and cold day. You see yourself so well on their damaged body, dropped to be forgotten on a grassy patch that became a trench where they are irredeemable lost. Their embrace, their warmth, underlies a truth. You are one more. Your own fears are theirs, you are the same.
And who helps on today's world, risking their own precious integrity, whoever is in the street? Not too many, and then we are so lonely. This warmth doesn't last. Green leaves turn to red and that was a cycle.
And as a cycle, I'm now heading down from where I started before all of this happened. Only the sweet purring of a cat could now soften my stiff eyes. Only such presence would block this chilly air that comes from my window. Allow me to grab the pieces of what I have and go.
Crash with me into the unavoidable loop. Rebel against this destiny once more. But there is so much one can do with a wall like that, I warn you. Although this destiny is not more than a premonition.
Today it should rain, and I clearly see the pass of time in the trees. And cycles end even if they are called cycles.