Not sure what to do next,
I may do nothing
as if that were an actual option,
but doing nothing comes with a cost
and it is in the paying,
the reckoning of this account,
I find an antidote
to the malaise of detachment.
about what I do not know
about what I kid myself to believe
about this notion that it will be alright
about all our notions
about the delusions of the blessed and the damned
about all our delusions
about the only certainty we have.
I know nothing.
This jumble of nervous energy
that drives the bones beneath my skin
is an instinct.
Intelligence is an illusion perpetrated by the ego
so that we may justify walking upright
-and now I have said too much.