without anger or fondness

I wrote this sometime in January or February

(a look at my diary)

In its tumult, it gives me ease. There could be no less tears, violence and mistrust. In this I am content. It is the silent sleepers that cause my restlessness. Love cannot be loving at all times. It must test your limits and create catastrophe. There could be no less. I am fearful of things that should not be feared.

I am filled with thoughts of the better life. This probably does not include you. My unwillingness to settle creates this monster that perches above your bed when you sleep. You are aware. One day you will lose me. I place only a selection of my cards, in generosity. In greediness you want them all. In jealousy you are curious. You may not have them. They are kept for protection. I barricade myself behind their waxy surfaces. I will not be read. I am not one to gamble.

Sometimes things are oddly applicable to any time in my life. Oof.