today

My thoughts have been quite sparse on paper, my thoughts plenty. The non-fiction I so yearn to write about kept from the pages as one's malicious intent of twisting and falsifying my intentions and my meaning for personal gain or causing trouble within my own small world, the consequences tossed in a bowl and called 'word salad', wreaking from the smell of a rotten potato...

For that, the pages have been blank, the fingers cold, but the days continue, as does

time

and my journey reaching a point where everything I do has a remembrance of the disease that now has complete hold of my body, the pain no longer tolerable but the alternative, not acceptable...

The questions I once had answered haunting again as I think and wonder if my beliefs are correct or simply an avenue to appease a mind that is overworked and a body that is exhausted.

Fear abounds.