my own fingers betray me as i always worry my eyes will follow … yesterday i played in the shower a while to make myself feel in the present tense and it only reminded me of things i am trying so hard in the present to forget … putty finger flesh rambling on basic human/aminal rights i make a public display of but cannot calm or justify in my own bed … ahh, how really real that cold light of want can be ,,, and i wish i could be calm as patient spider webs weaving in the corners of my fore roomed high ceiling … i cannot touch this so it does not exist … sort of like air and moments passing, a translucence i will never be able to justify why i still can’t deal with it or even, what is housed and hidden inside my own head and body … so removed but the two points parallel but never touching is problematic … a simplicity that hides itself, i suppose …