There are moments when I doubt the usefulness of all things.
Desire is endless. And satisfy desire without hurt. Gangrene of the soul. It spreads, it's black, tarry it. It submerges the veins to block them.
is what I am. Intimately. Deeply. Gangrene who advance in life. I have the scars as others love. I have pain as others in cascades of laughter. I have normal appearances. Those operating in the crowd. But those who collapsed in the face to face.
I'm naked, hungry, thirsty. Each step is pain that radiates down my legs. The roads that life imposes on us are sometimes very chaotic. I caught the disease. The chaos of the heart. Or perhaps clots. I do not know, I do not know. The heart atrophied sickly. I do not care a watchword. Came the diagnosis.
There are moments when I doubt the usefulness. Of all things. Of myself sometimes.
(February Completes ... Finally!)
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