Xtu Jesu on a bike but i'm woe begirt. It's a dark sunday, i feel like i've been up for ages, i'm tired and have done nothing. My stomach is a ball full of knots. Mond und Licht ist voll Schmerzen unter-gangen, weil i---ich bi--in befangen. Little joy re dating site, much oy. To turn back into myself would appeal, to throw myself into work. I just don't feel built to not be alone. One needs to expose oneself, to peel back a layer of skin, to deprickify the hedgehog self. But it turns, like Homer's gums exposed to wind; an augenblick and ecstasy, un coup d'oeil and agony. There is no settledness, and the stomach won't thank you. And there is nothing ; just hours going to make up empty days, and meaning intentions never to be brought to meaning fulfillment. The monologue ; the words are thought and come a second later, in order predetermined. The thoughts ; a closed circuit on this and on that side of the pillow, sometimes raised, progressing about 6 feet up, into the dark cool toilet, the moon or just night thru the bathroom window, the thoughts cogging onwards.