cordyceps

I don't know where it is my head goes at these times, or when these times are, or why they are and why it goes

Should I like to find out, maybe, but sometimes I think this would be worse than all the not-knowing wandering

It takes a very long time to get to a place you are avoiding because you do not know where or why it is, and why you should be so much against it (the foible of every redirection charm is the residue it leaves behind, meat for the curious mind and its inevitable unraveling)

It is a very tiring way to travel, but then--have you already forgot again?--you do no really want to get where you are going.

This, which is not at all a pleasurable state, not a direction but the sort of desperate avoidance of a polarized magnet pushed forth between two insistently pinched fingers

Is equally uncomfortable when avoided, or forgotten, when remembered, or returned to, as it must always be (at least for awhile, and that little addendum too is part of the treacherous equation).

It is the condition and fierceness of the return (each return?) that creates a sort of animal condition--not other animal, just human animal

Guilt, a condensing potion and the jutting of jumbled up limbs adding a certain roughness to figure, locomotion, and mind

Wherein presences and non presences become more themselves (or their non selves) as each second continues to selve, continues to selve, continues to selve . . . .

And the collection of these bumps or declivities become so much as to irritate the eyes, ears, or nose, sensing organs which are not used to such insistent tactility

In an effort to expand while contracting, I now contemplate the skill of certain necessary deceptions

Deceptions? Obfuscations. Defense charms; sacrificial illusions.

A truth taken in is a certain sort of lie; or becomes one, when it reaches a certain critical depth. From this point on, the truth remains, but by some contamination of situation or emotion (I am not yet sure what the additive is here), the projection of this truth becomes a lie. This being the process by which certain falsities are allowed and not falsities at all---only processes mistaken for truth, and then deemed false when discovered to be otherwise.

Sometimes I think if I sit still enough and long enough I can figure this out

forgetting that this is not the thing you can or want to figure out

So I sit and think to no end.

Sometimes I get it right when I sleep, but when you sleep, variables are moved or removed until it becomes possible to solve and figure. It doesn't translate.