FrameOfReference

There have been times when I have felt as blind as death. It spreads. Like an alien curse. Limbs, synaptic abstractions of chromosomes grown into tangible structure, paths of navigation of unobserved environments - torn, burned out, melted away by blind habit, and I'm left with the knowledge that my actions here, based on the empty imagination left in its wake, futile attempts to respond to what I am fully aware I am inadequately comprehending. It matters to me as much as the lives around me, the comprehension of their true value here hidden behind a shallow and misleading surface representation.

my favourite colour is bund

 one of a kind
host
of burdens
unbearable
may be capable
given the importance of all that he stands for
the promise of kindness in understanding
is itself a promise of protection
he must therefore
remind himself of the value of freedom from the overbearing dream
that acts as a limit on anything deemed possible with imagination
stranger than anyone thought
stranger outlining the chalk
nature
brought in blossom to breed
leaks in
unfinished on a breeze
there there's
just so much more to see
every walled garden
so easy to read

Words aren't forming. I've been through a lot but words aren't forming. Since a few months ago, my head has been in constant nightmare mode. I've had some of the most frightening, loneliest, gruelling experiences of my life and I suppose I am fully drained, or more than usual, of the driving thought which led to intense feats of imagination (lol). I won't go into details, but during the recent time I spent being beaten and the subsequent time in hospital, I was absolutely terrified. I had not slept for days before the incident. Somehow the physical violence had a profound effect on my sleepless mind and it dreamt up a terrible nightmare to go along with my bruises. It chills me to my very core to think about it so I won't write much about it here. Maybe, sometime later, when I rekindle the ability to properly express it.