In My Mind I Am Eloquent; I

He Is Spent. His Mind Is Mercury Again, Its Brief Surge Of Humanity Melting Into An Oily Residue On Its Surface, And He No Longer Understands The Feelings He Felt In That Strange Moment On The Overpass. But He Did Feel Them. They Did Happen. They Rest On The Murky Seabed Of His Mind, Buried Under Sand And Silt And Miles Of Grey Waves. Patient Seeds Waiting For Light.

The World That Birthed That Story Is Long Gone, All Its People Are Dead, But It Continues To Touch The Present And Future Because Someone Cared Enough About That World To Keep It. To Put It In Words. To Remember It.

Nothing Is Permanent. Not Even The End Of The World.

Peel Off These Dusty Wool Blankets Of Apathy And Antipathy And Cynical Desiccation. I Want Life In All Its Stupid Sticky Rawness.

What I'm Saying Is, When You Have Weight Like That In Your Life, You Have To Start Looking For The Bigger Picture Or You Are Gonna Sink.