Static. Elongated. Loud. Present. Clear.

Piercing. Slow. Sharp.

An existence.

Stuck in the middle of nothing.

Nothing being the space

Between hope and hopelessness.

Excitement and fear.

Anxiety and contempt.

Ambivalence.

So forceful.

So dominant.

So paralyzing.

So depressing.

What is worse?

Stumbling and falling or remaining static?

Both are risky.

Except one's easier.

Even as I write

I feel contempt toward these words.

I'm so tired.

Tired of having inconsistent chains.

May I go, or must I stay...

Master.