I am in this place, of concealed presence – desolate though full of something.
I’m here in this place of independance of some kind of meaning – yet I’m alone in this place of responsibility, don’t take my hand, yet i wish you would.
Sometimes i find myself dead – and then someone wakes me up.
Its the perfect feeling – though perhaps i’m more responsive to it – it keeps me alive.
But what this all means is beyond me.