Daily missive for Wednesday the 2nd of November.

“There is no rest,” said he

“As much as I would like to believe

It to be so,

The ground is cold

And as hard as nails

No bed that I would wish to lie on

There is no softness to the mattress

No comfort in the sheet

Would that I believed in ghosts,

This, no doubt would please me

Every vision I have seen

Each bold illusion

Conjured in the half-light

Brought out from its mouldering

In the furthest corner

Where it has lain half in and half out of shadow

Hidden by convention

As it rules the laws of ideation

Which pervade every waking nightmare,

Infiltrating sleep

Ingressing deep into my internal

Constellation.

Am I pulled toward the light

Do I drift among the stars

What office have I entered

Where now do I sit

Why have I been laid low

So very long

And very far from home

That I might see myself as others do

With no familiarity

Just the blackness of a wall

A monolith, standing between me

And a daylight

That might well wait outside

If I could but wake from this frightful night

If indeed it so may be,

As I am now robbed of sound and sight

What is left

But this hollowed shell

Bereft of all

But self-determination

The will of perseverance.

There will be no keeping still

Not until I know the truth of things

Is it death that has become me

Am I stuck inside the torture

Of my own infernal psychology?

Is this nought but momentary

A source of self-identification

Or is to be my own true way

For once and all eternity.”