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I’m counting the swirls of plaster in your ceiling to try & focus on something, anything, lying to myself that putting all of my attention into one pointless task will somehow free the words that have become trapped. Painfully, I admit that I’m not sure there are words at all, trapped or otherwise.

State of my head is hard to gauge, as ever, but it’s either that I have every thought possible traversing the electric highways & byways of my mental landscape or none whatsoever. A fleeting image that lingers – speeding cars distilled, so that each pair of headlights becomes a tiny, seamless link in an illuminated chain, the paradox of motionless motion. “The light shines within me like a diamond mine…” That blinding, deafening – altogether senseless – intensity.

I’m sick of paradoxes & definitions. Constant, relentless life with no last member in sight until it’s far gone, before then infinite numbers of half points that are apparently necessary to reach before you go further. I don’t do things by half measures; that’s why I’m alive.

Waves, that’s what they look like to me. Perfectly even, regular waves ready to break on the shore then return. The sea above & the sky below – between is no longer the earth I knew, or the earth that once was… Perhaps I’m deceiving myself but I don’t think I’m that clever or cunning. Tides are turning within me, each drop of blood groans as the current reverses. My axis is off kilter, magnetised to an altogether different field.

I’m not ready, to say the least. If there are words for this, I want to find them. But for now, I’ll hold my tongue – because it’s not worth saying anything unless I mean it.

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