To forget and have peace, or, remember and suffer. The drama of my inner narrator is driving me insane. The sane answer is to forget. To let die and to thus die – to be born anew. I owe it to myself to rest in peace. But I can’t. I have no control over this. And I can’t leave. I am simply, for some reason, required to be here.
So, here I am, a criminal. Writing on the walls of my cell. Going to my job. Coming home to visit with my loved ones.
The time of the underworld is nigh!
Soon comes the Fall!
Soon come the long-sleeves and the pumpkin bread with butter!
Not tomorrow, and not the next, but soon.
Soon comes the Fall. (Heavy breathing).