.
.
.
I am thrown off balance again.
Days ago, I was right in the origin of the Cartesian Plane.
Perfectly centered.
After a few words (or maybe a little too many)
and a few (or maybe a little too many) stolen glances,
I was off center again, I moved towards left and then down
to the extremest part of the third quadrant of that xy plane.


In the middle of the night, I can't write anything sensible.
Compress this writeup and you'll end up with a sound of something breaking.
The stitches are being undone. Bleeding all over again.
If I distill my thoughts to its purest,
they will still be stained by memories too heavy to shake off.
Should I try to swim back to the safety of a desert island
or should I surrender to the waves of the ocean,
let it crush me until I am totally lost in the deep?