winter is upon us

o. denial. self-denial. this choke-hold of time. i spin around the tether of weekends, solid blocks of work, and a week of variations on the one note that plays across my life now. my sleep is torment. i have to drug myself asleep, drug myself awake. a life of addictions as reward for doing the right thing. all for what? i have to believe in what will come of it. i used to be such a good little investor. i have never wanted to see the future before. but now this uncertain certainty wraps its fingers tight round my skull and sings, high pitched screams. torment. dull throbs of anger. those good things are so damn tangible. . . but out of reach for now. life, though a small part of my time, can be so good. time stayed. future stayed. life stayed. you are my salvation. you, my water tiger, on this silvery bright morning, lit a tiny fire in my heart. creation is my promise.