I'm jealous of your weightlessness sometimes, - literally. I trundle along like a turtle with scoliosis, Carrying my home on my back. Water, umbrella, hand cream, The entire contents of my medicine cabinet. Lockpick, screwdriver, flint and steel. All the things I need to avoid - frustrated scrambling - being caught off guard - an unexpected encounter - to avoid - to avoid... Can you tell how far I have travelled, In this unforgiving and austere monastery? -- and i say blah blah blah human rights blah blah current affairs (snore) blah blah global catastrophe. i think about art and culture and beautiful things but maybe just in order to cram them in my mouth and swallow. my ideal state is inertia and bedrotting and my world is sculpted from paper mache and lies. -- With a bloody taste in my mouth, I wake from my dreams. The unfired gun, the unlit match - Caesar sits, innocent to the ides. I am empty handed, but Does it take a murderer to think about Driving a knife into someone's back?