This is a prose poem bonus, and because it took a while.

I have not lost my touch. I was just not holding for a while. Life has its way of snatching you from your hobby spree, sketching an image of much more ‘important’ things. Relatively.

I see a rush without a surge. I see writings, mine, dedicated to my eyes. I see a heap-like hill with dynamic first steps. I see a life that submerges in me.

I do not owe myself to hold back. I feel destined for a greater hypothesis. For the greatest reality. It feels so far and it feels so near. The present has a whelm that my heart chokes on. I built an existential cave, the sole spot my nose swims in an air of calm.

People cry, people laugh. Nothing is fair and all is fair. The world is so small for a life of hurt.

You know, I just wanted things to come on spur. The point is to live to your extreme when you can, within the sturdy barriers of sanity.