The bPod died last night
my place looks like an estate jumbe sale
I spent the morning feeling like a castaway*
in a boat full of panic rats
I got some thins packed but, I felt heavy
worried, sad, and wished
to feel nothing at all.
Amidst the chaos of my picked-to-pieces
place of terminal sanctuary in Zion's Gate,
I won't even go there, now;
I went back to bed with a glass of wine
slept for 5 hours with no dreams,
woke up to heat and light and, damn
I probably won't sleep tonight.
I feel blurry, half-disassembled, wound
too tight, and posted off-center,
tt's dark and hot and the phone
didn't ring all day, of all days
oi vay
*To be a castaway is to be a point perpetually at the center of a circle. However much things may appear to change - the sea may shift from whisper to rage, the sky might go from fresh blue to blinding white to darkest black - the geometry never changes. Your gaze is always a radius. The circumference is ever great. In fact, the circles multiply. To be a castaway is to be caught in a harrowing ballet of circles. You are at the center of one circle, wile above you two opposing circles spin about. The sun distresses you like a crowd, a noisy invasive crowd that makes you cup your ears, that makes you close your eyes, that makes you want to hide. The moon distresses you by silently reminding you of your solitude; you open your eyes wide to escape your loneliness. When you look up, you sometimes wonder if at the centre of a solar storm, if in the middle of the Sea of Tranquility; there isn't another one like you also looking up, also trapped by geometry, also struggling with fear, rage, madness, hopelessness, apathy.
~Yann Martel - Life of Pi
