compelled to distill some sense from the gnarled mass of thoughts like a tangled skein of yarn convoluted into incomprehension pathetically conflating this sensation, this phenomenon of not feeling any pain merging this concept with happiness

knowing it is hollow, a dessicated rind of delusion enclosing the horrific, intrinsic void

this nullifying nadir of my existence at the hopeless bottom of this gravity well embraced on all sides by impossibilities

what more, indeed, what more can a man ask for? as I stifle my desire, crush it like a spent, empty beer can against my forehead

because what is desire but suffering? but still knowing that stillness is death

can my soul ossify, perhaps? fossilized, smashed down by the weighing strata of fear fraught with failure I think: Atlas with the world on his back the doomed caryatid falled under her burden my soul crystallizing into dead, still carbon (you ever think of diamond as the sad remains of some creature? some sad creature as myself crushed down into something that sparkles at last)

times like this, I wish I could implode like a star shining bright my heart blazing like a hellacious furnace committing violent acts of creation raging with the tempest of a stellar wind illuminating the aching void of the cosmos

Oh.

I am but a man alone, and doomed to die and days like this I wonder if that is all I have left to look forward to.