These are the truth tools;
these which I use to torture myself.
The sharpening stone must be wet and
the tools sharp to hit home.
I think I’m insane,
or at the least,
not so far from that ledgefall
into hell or beyond.
Thanks be Gods.
but that needling hot nothingness
and a bucketload of tears and fears
with nowhere to direct them.
I have nothing to say because –
I have no control.
Nothing will change the inevitable.
I cannot change the inevitable.
I have no control over the inevitable.
And I fucking hate it.