When I fell, belayed and with

Despair I’d never known

I crept aside the callous wall

Mad as birds atone

When all I appeared

Was flesh and bone

And tethered from the stars

My every love had gone beside

Withheld of light afar

—-

(I was reading 1984. I relate to Winston Smith. Especially towards the end. These days I can never seem to think straight enough to form coherent thoughts, or even to write half-decent.)