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Sitting, waiting
For thoughts that never come
Wishing, missing
The dream of you

Forever lying
No longer even trying
Emotionally incapable of crying

Sighing, dying
With each and every breath

Failing to spark any connection, any real interest. Desire is all but gone. Emotions are slow to come.
What has happened?

The words mean nothing to me, bounce off and fall away…

Shy flights of the mind, yet ever expansive. Out of control, hard to even notice. Wishing the pain would return, to spur me on. A push in the back, friendly or otherwise. Needs to be firm, yet gentle at the same time. A conundrum. A habit. A sickness. A weakness. A function. A behaviour. A versatility of wayward thoughts, composed, and diligent. Reckless and ambitious. Careless and loving.

Capable – no, incapable. Unimaginable breakthroughs can happen. Waiting helped nothing.


This is the beginning of a series of ‘quick steps’. These posts will be fast, free writing. Thinking of whatever comes to mind, and immediately typing with no editing. I would be glad to hear your comments. Here’s the first:

I’m trying to survive.

The gravel beneath my feet crunches and shifts as I try to hold firm.

How did I find my self in this position?

The bite of the blade clips my shoulder, taking a lump of me with it.

I struggle with the concept of killing this man before me, as I raise my blade and bring it down.

I kill any hesitation to not bring death, and I strike deep.

Blood spurts, eyes deaden, limbs fall weak.

Gazing down at the dead-man, I wonder what it is I’m doing.


My voice carries faintly, but not a peep answers in this beautiful meadow.

No one hears me.

I breath deep, and feel my jaw loosen.

Hot tears burn my eyes, as my body shakes.

Why, oh why?

I do not feel the bite of the rod in my back, as it strikes.

For I am already dead.


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