Reiterating the Wind

Everything I say I say because the world is not the way I want it. That I’m still speaking reminds me of how ineffective I am, how full of nonsense and nausea. This is what’s awful about being human, in addition to unrequited love and the opposable thumb which facilitates the trigger finger. I wish I could say everything I do is an attempt to bring back the dead. It isn’t true, though, and I’m not entirely ashamed. Bear with me for a second while I think about that guy who went through hell et al. to retrieve his lover. OK. That’s another thing about being human: looking behind — but up until then he was doing pretty great. I did not ask you to leave. I am not asking you to come back.