wordplaypresencebodydoubtindecisiontimesolitudeexistencesadnessexhaustionthe writing selfmysticismcontemptdarkpaindeathwork
21:21 a bird chirps still, a recovering ill, burning my will
2026-10-12
21:21 a bird chirps still,
my body not so much so,
knocked on many doors, some belonged to some and some belonged to me
the souls occupying the space waited for me
i now am in,
light is a little dim.
red light, room full of red paint
eyes squinted, i'm there.
today my navel's alive,
4 lefts 4 rights, any left for tomorrow?
this feels like the right sorrow.
a friend is he? he keeps to himself,
if a system works, it works.
every yes is a death of no, every no is a death of yes,
if you're happy you're happy, about me? we're talking about you,
questions questions questions
in this quest i'm all i'm familiar with,
until a question reveals itself
am i to walk the ether to get to ether, to become ether
to finally rest, part ways with those that were walking and the hecklers,
the louder the noise
this is where i stop writing.
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