Old Stream of Conscious Note 1

#1

I am warm with fear I sweat a viscous unnameable thing that might closely identify as death.  My jaw painfully locks, which is a slight reprieve from its constant nervous chattering.  The heat from my terrorized brain melts solid ice at a distance. I have been here too long.  The hot fearful beast longs for the climate of cool clay to lay his weary body into.
But there are unknown things undone. So I will continue to plod this scorched earth ever fearful of the next turn.

#2

Then suddenly to my knowledge mortality made me realize that even through my inexplicable anxiety no human interaction really amounts to anything unless I will it to.

#3

My meaningless life. Like a dim candle caught inside a turned over glass. Desperately trying to make the most of the thinning air.

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