Truth is the beginning...

He was looking out the window of his cramped office space at his mundane 9 to 5, once again struck by the realization that he is very much on borrowed time and that the lending agency exacts its premium precisely when he is least prepared to pay and is desperately seeking to borrow more. He is not wise at all, it seems, to always be falling for the same traps life sets for him. Yes, he knows books and how to string words together, but that doesn't mean he knows how to speak about the things that matter most to him. Maybe he does, in a way. Quite the same as he lives. In a way.

I need some help...

But this thing that almost surely won't ever be, still beckons, even though I secretly want it to end. Or at least progress to be freed from this agonizing limbo. I know I won't be able to unwrite this failure, never unlive it, or relive it - it will remain stuck here like a vision of fireflies on a summer field toward evening. Could I have had something else instead? Something that would lead me down a more steady path? Where moving ahead wouldn't be false, and looking the other way would be just a fun pastime. I guess what I'm trying to say is that there might be another life out there. Another life that I might have had, but I am having this one.

Can't see the light from the dark...

How deep is shallow water?

How high is too high up? 

I feel it pull me under,

just another touch.