I was not designed to process this. It is not good for me.

Loneliness, punishing myself for previous naivety, daily routine reminders, a wicked horrible path I weave, cigarettes, strong coffees and terrible food, an occasional outburst of terrible blues. I was not prepared for this.

The music stopped and I carried on dancing, way into the darkness of the night. Nobody left in the building as I went to retrieve my coat. The only coat left on a once bustling rack.

Outside into the cold air of the night, a long walk home, now on my own. Loneliness, years pass, sadness grows.

I am now an overweight wreck.

I can barely breathe, with nothing achieved.

Longing for a previous optimism. No there is not one second of it.

I do not allow myself to stray towards a pleasant thought, the land of inclusion.

I wish to be mended.

I am nearly there now.

A Siberian winter and the Sahara heat both compete to make me retreat.

I remind myself.

Live.