conversation

i do not know why it is that i do the things that i do or when i started to become this thing that devours and has no begining and has no end
in the night it is easier
sometimes
and it is easier when i am alone
when i have a pencil in my hand and a piece of paper in front of me and i can write down a simple equation
a=a
tautology eases my mind like liquid words poured into my ear, like laudanum
but the meanings confuse me
even this
a word that soothes me then confuses me since it has a root and its root is latin and it means: to praise
is this my desire? is this the medicine that heals? a mirror and a breath on the surface of it soon to disappear
i loose hold
i loose and i win and when i loose i still win and when i win i loose and all this moving in a circle is at an end and endless
alchemical symbols mean nothing to me and i cannot find something to look at which might reflect me or help to designate me
then i look at her when she is one, because usually she is many, an i see this:

like a lie I turn to my side a dying artifact soothed by senseless poisons that i push into me and propell me towards extinction