A view across the sea,
I feel so tired now I’ve run out of words, don’t know how to say what I feel anymore. For I used my writings, I could do that, they gave me a sense of achievement as I had finally tripped into trust. But I can’t do this anymore, my performance now withering as I write about my parched emotions, my language long forgotten just another soul lost in the sea of volatile impulse.
Mythological stories the tramps tell of happiness and fulfilment. I think that’s where I am now, on the jarred rutted cobbles stood listening to one of the fables, just thinking. As I listen intently I ponder, my mind fraying from the topic at ridicule and wonder how I got here. Here where I always needed too be, and ask the question that no-one but me and me alone will ever answer. Why?