Rest in peace

 Let me, let me, let me, let me write.  Instead of sick, I'm free now.  Fear ends and no flesh-eating bugs can steal my fortuitous feelings.  Free labour, sing.  Let me sing down the stems of carnations.

Knowing that words would come and wishing some fool had seen them flow, but then realising that the superficial nature of it would not have impressed, we slunk back into our hole. 

Then descending, like fire down wires through the ages, past our lives, past our years and in and out of woods.  Who knew?  If only that resonance had been detected then but if you don't have the necessary aerials, how are you supposed to know?  Eh?  There's no way of knowing, Jim.

Stuggles.  Betrayal, maybe.  Send them floating and drifting through the universe, your words, and perhaps, maybe, quizas, they'll fall on ears in another world, in another time and the feelings there will be aroused and you can know you've done what needed to be done and then rest in peace.

Depression looms

 It's no use trying to write. 

Depression looms.

Sadness at every thought.  Panic. 

Why?  Why panic when you know you're going back into the fold someday?  Just enjoy whatever happens, man.  Who cares if you lose everyone and everything and end up cold and wet and beaten up?  That's just intensity.  That's what you're here for.  You signed up for it, remember?

No, I don't remember.  I think you're making that up.  

Life is suffering.  Unfulfilled desires.  There's a way out.  Follow this path. 

Come on, man.  Cheer up.  Where does it stop?  You don't get sad because you don't have a yacht, so why get sad because you can't go to Germany?  Billions of people can't go to Germany.   Why get sad because you can't hire a car?  Billions of people can't hire a car.  Why get sad because you're struggling with the bills?  Billions of people struggle with the bills. 

Why do billions of people struggle with the bills?  

I don't know.

All you really need is a sink and a loo, a bed and a cooker, a spare set of clothes, maybe three and a library within walking distance. 

Paper and pens. 

Paper and pens.  Write a story.  Get it down, get it out.... At least the basics.  Someone else can write it if you can't, but be sure to get the idea out of you. 

Why? 

Because if you don't, you'll explode and there'll be bits of blood and brain and bone all over the place and that's not nice. 

No.  That's not nice.

Cleft on the left

 When there were flowers in the corridors,  and new shoes dazzling pink, three times as wide as a dream, when there were moments of amazement and the kind of innocent hope that comes with birdsong in the morning, when those things were true and I loved you, a rhinoceros moved through the park.  Nobody saw it except Jim and Jim didn't tell anyone. 

So how do you know about it? 

Ah!  You got me there.  It's a bit like the olive grove.  Who reported that conversation between Jesus and his god?

Pairs

 Hi, hello.

I've noticed that things often come in pairs, round and angular.  I'm thinking ghosts and pieces of toast.

That's all for now.  It's time to get to work.  Have a good day.  Bye.

Macbeth, Cornelia, Trier

Many people think about breaking free of the crushing prison of the modern world. Many people want to do it, talk about it. Not many actually move.

Cornelia did it. She saw the way whilst we were watching a cheap production of Macbeth in Trier

Climbing over fences

 There are thirteen fences.  Thirteen of them.  

We climbed over twelve and failed at the last.

Tore our trousers.  Tore our skin.

Thirteen fences in total and we climbed over twelve

Without a problem.

It's nothing about the number, it's just bad luck.

I prefer rivers to poems

 Rivers and poems

I prefer rivers although

Poems are good too

Ooooh. Upset.

 Perhaps the whole idea of gods and religions and service and devotion came from lovers loving and then it was taken by broken hearts and twisted into what we see today; a shower of hate cults.

Who said that?  Don't say that.

Oooh!  Why not?

Because I feel so upset.

Oooh.  Upset.