TENSION

The ambulance call comes in...response...react...revive. The adrenaline starts to pump, and much to my demise, does not cease- flowing into everyday matters like a renegade river, ripping at the orderly birthing disorder. A simple conversation, observed from my perch down the hallway, made my head (in vain) boil.

"Who is this guy?" my head asks, well, my head. "He is just like all the rest", my head responds.

I am a product of the moment. I am, at times, a creature better off left in the wild. I am alive. I am happy about most of these facts.

Feelings...

He was given something I was only teased and tormented with, like the idea of warmth on a frost ridden day. To think at one moment your life will never be the same, and then the next minute as well as never being the same, will be some makeshift replica of the life you were living before.
Sunny days and rain on monday mornings. Live it up.

So...

So here I am again, writing from Japan. The only purpose we have here is that in which we have created for ourselves. Transparent as wet paper, we serve those who we put here by our own hand. We do nothing more than idly await a fate to never come. To issue out medications like Amoxicillin and Benadryl to affront the constant flow of pointless battles that shall never cease. There is no enemy here. These people, the Japanese, are far better off without our plague like presence in this, their sacred country. My love, she is by far singular, she is the only good thing to come from my presence here.