"And how long?"

how much does a man live, after all?
Does he live a thousand days, or only one?
For a week, or for several centuries?
How long does a man spend dying?
What does it mean to say 'for ever'?

I want to tell you about the corruption.
But I am scared. I feel like a communist.


I cry, after hanging up with a sibling who is beyond the pain I am feeling, who reminds me that 'I live in a small town...'.
I cry because I have no one to share my sorrows.

Everyone has a life that is full and busy--the new roof, the baby, relatives, job..

I stood beside the waterfall for a minute. I rememered how it looked frozen--its ice crystals penetrating the water below. I imagine briefly what Ophelia must have felt when her world came tumbling down and there was no one to talk to. The water seems soothing, cool, friendly. No wonder she let herself go.

I stood on the bank and reminded myself of a beautiful and amazing daughter I have. She is vibrant and lovely and sustains me when everything-else doesn't.

I want to jump in, seeing her reflection in me in the vast pool of shimmering, sparkling water. I want to surrender to my anger and sorrow and loneliness...the people at work who beat me down day after day with their jealous, angry, resentful words...I want to surrender to the loss of love and friends and faith I have in anything.


Did I mention, "My Skin is" just started playing?