Beyond comprehension, awestruck, devastated beyond the tunnel of retribution, sadness. Lost keys in an effort to sideways down the car park. The house not entered, the storm unrealized. Coulda, shouda, winter. Standard lines of truth vs a life well lead. Feet well fled against a sky of high water. Aghast at last weeks unfinished news and the history of good times that will not become of road map. Oh, I’m sorry, did my existence just fuck up your day? Really, I’m not crazy. Really. I’m just relegated to the front lines of my own life, against my will. I will take up arms against the day. Me against them. From the tumbler comes the wicked dice tossed into my face, into my life. Good, smart then fall apart. I hope you find what you’re looking for (the door, the door).