un done.

i used to be inspired. alive in my mind. now has that been lost? have i allowed people to bring me so low... to this point of grasping for return? i used to feel love and compassion. i used to feel. now my tears are of unexplained frustration. unwarranted unhappiness with the world. my depressive nature used to have focus— now it is so vague. so uninspired. just a heavy weight— not necessarily on but around— like walls or bars keeping me from where i want to be.

memory is release. dreaming is release. from the present? i do feel caged. and i can't even complain. my godfather is dying and i am crying b/c he hangs on every word and i am without love. he has a giant wound across his brow and i am unsatisfied with the yield of inspiration. this could be the last time we see him. this could be the last time we see anyone. so why don't we all embrace the preciousness of life? embrace what little inspiration is left and turn to look outwardly?