there is no balance here.

i have a body contract with my brain that overrides the ambitions of my limbs so i can think myself into shape when i don't need to be in shape to conquer mental things.

now that this dream of mine is wide awake i feel the glamour of fucking returning.

it is control that i love.

silently and secretly happy i hatched a plan that would last another lifetime.

i held time tightly and i cared for the space that was around me.

because i knew it would outlast me.

the projected image has been dealt a blow and made brittle by this day.

full flowing optimism stalls and stutters, and curtailed is provoked in to scared and brave action.

i am lost by all this. a definite darkness descends.

i liken myself to the overturned car that passes in a flash of roadside. i am the shaken limbs and the scarred paintwork.

solvent abuse and alcoholism fist fight stories at the institute are washed with chloe and adam and louise in the stairwells of the science museum.

a detached viewpoint through a pinhole.