Inquisition.

Wating.




The Art.The Practice.The Way.

just how long can you hold out?




Nights spent within 4 walls.Thoughts boucning,collecting.Rictoching.

Thoughts piling.Each bounce becoming a bigger ball.

Each thought a colored rubber band.

Each complication tangling,making it larger.


With every waver in your tone.

With every missdirection in your so normal step.

With every difference,I am convincing myself of your inquisition.


your secrets.

your lies.



I wacth the minutes pass on the wall clock.
I wacth them pass on the tv.


I try and distract myself til I know something else.

I try and ignore the feeling in my gut.

I try and ignore my phone.

Sitting in its place.

Nothing new.




I've spent so many nights this way.

For so many years.




Tell me.


Has nothing changed?



Or have I just gone temporarily mad?