It is supposed to be the highest form of information. It is a precious thing, essential. We need truth like we need air… don’t we? Why is there a layer of obscurity over everything? Is truth too raw? Does it scald our senses? Truth is our vitality, but I spend my time on the other side. In a vacuum where only pockets of the truth survive. It is the void where lies and obscurity are thick and what is true twinkles in the distance. Not unobtainable, but so far out of reach that living in such a light is a dream seldom had. It is surreal. Attempts at honesty are stage plays. Holding up a mirror, perhaps, but one that is warped and equally deceptive.


What do I have?

What could I be? Just the briefest of beings in the smallest of worlds. All of us. Is it any wonder that we reach for so much grander? Is it not so very human to strive for the scale we wonder at? Why press that down? Why crush that in anyone?

the world…

… is a swirl. The old and the new. The spontaneous and the routine. Some things settled and some bubbling away. I do not mind the bubbling. It is quiet. It is rain bubbles in the puddle. It is tomato bubbles in the spaghetti sauce.

down deep…

…in the not knowing of things. I once believed that I should cut out all unnecessary words. But then it occurred to me that all the words were unnecessary. Even though that might not be true, it seemed a very compelling reason to adopt silence.

lonely and what it means

I am alone right now. I often am.  Am I lonely? What exactly is loneliness? I am struggling with this so I am turning to my dictionary for help. The entry for lonely is as follows:

1. feeling alone – feeling sad through being without friends or company
2. Isolated – isolated and rarely visited
3. Without companionship or support – done or lived through without companionship or support from other people.

Reading this explanation I believe I have hit on something significant. The fluidity of language has created some interesting nuances here. Some of which resonate with me.

Am I lonely in the first sense? Is that truly the case? I have some serious doubts. I am starting to suspect that for the most part I am lonely in the second sense. I am inclined to think that when I am sad and mostly isolated, I am not sad because I am mostly isolated.

But something is off, isn’t it?

Trying to scratch this surface brings me to some tricky territory. I am asking myself why I prefer isolation. What is it about the idea of friends that mostly makes me sad? Why is a room full of people a place I don’t want to be?

The answer seems to be “connection.” A scary, upsetting word. I have trouble with my connections. A lot of trouble. To the extent that I would rather not face it.

Mostly I am disconnected. I am disconnected from so many people that it is overwhelming. Only a few remain on threads that I can tug on… and usually the tugging is from a distance. Some people I feel are lost to me that I would rather not have lost. But I don’t have the strength to reconnect. I am wrapped up in guilt and anxiety from the state I have brought myself to.

Where does this floundering with connections come from? And what about the people I never connected to in the first place? This brings me to my sincerity trap. I hate to feel disingenuous… and the idea that I might seem that way fills me with dread. This dread is a trap. It makes me afraid to speak and afraid to act. I don’t want to risk saying something I don’t mean or doing something I don’t feel. That is why I am most comfortable alone. Everything about socializing needs to come in miniscule doses or I can’t handle it.

But I am sad that those connections I make falter. So maybe I am lonely type 1 after all. Still I think the conventional number of connections is too many for me… and ultimately it is the quality that needs to fit. The idea of being able to forge connections on my own terms seems like an impossible task. It also feels too demanding. Why should I dictate the dynamics of a relationship? What makes me more important? To make matters even more nebulous I have only a vague amount of awareness when it comes to what I want. What is the perfect scenario? What would make me happy?

It all seems to come down obstacles I have put in my own way, which is very frustrating. The way I see it, I have sadness that has isolated me… and I guess isolation that saddens me as well. They are feeding each other. It is daunting because interrupting the loop is not a simple task. I can’t just tack on new acquaintances and “break” isolation. If something inside me is pulling me away, then the connections will falter just the same.

I guess that answers my question, though. My loneliness exists… and it is a sinister loop.

What time is it?

I wonder if it ever makes a difference

Those twenty-four arbitrary wedges

Worldwide we are simultaneous

One stone skipping the waves

But someone added borders

Because they say time is light

Time is the sun


But the dark is not timeless

In more ways than one

So I start to wonder

If nothing were perceived

If nothing ever changed

Would there still be time?

I can’t help but think so


Time is a constant

It is invisible weather

Just as rain can fall unseen

It subsists without observers

It is the ultimate movement

But we try to pin it down

Does time care what it is?


the sense is silken

slipping by my fingertips

so I swipe the air


I never grab hold

I never grip firm

I never gain purchase


inside my skin

anchored to the ground

I am too warm

I am too heavy


receding from my shell

inside infinite space

becoming a restless wind

alighting from thought to thought

Unmake the Universe

Give me the time to unwind

And I’ll unmake the universe

Grasping at something

Less tangible than straws

Moments in the slow cooker

Elements of life

Chewed on like fat

The droplet drips down

And I think

There is no down

Not really

There is only outwards

Trying to move towards the center

Why isn’t the world

A centrifuge?

Flinging us against

Some cosmic walls?