3 am

Things start to look like this.

That time of the year again

It’s mid-year crisis time. Similar to the mid-life crisis, but repeated per annum, rather than per vitae.

That time of the year when you wonder – what have I done so far in the year? – what have I done so far in life? – and find that the answer is “nothing much”, or as my venerable friend Macbeth would say “signifying nothing”. At these moments, you meditate not so much on the kindness of strangers but on their callousness. It’s a dreadful lethargy.

Rhythm

oh keep me locked away
yes
a little while
as I
as I
collect poets in bunches
of carnelian carnations for a
coronation
let me rise
let me rise
in a litte while
oh how I see

A little something

The product of a little free-writing exercise.