there is a poignant reminiscence when you spend hours anticipating the arrival of someone on MSN, recollecting the time when you did the same thing for a certain someone S, only to realise that the promise that S chose to come hours late and had nothing more than a sheepish 'i'm sorry' look on the face. it's desperately vacuous - any dolt can tell - and the vacuity of it all is precisely that shard that drives spears through any heart.

the silence of the wait is crushing, almost as if the air is coagulating in your lungs and you think that nothing can ever go in or come out again, and you wonder why you are keeping vigil for a person like that. the phone rings away, and you know you don't want to pick it up.

breathe ... breathe. maybe it's the heart that's broken. breathe. one needs to know the basics of life. my old heart brays away, like a donkey that is led to the slaughter, as it is about to be fed as feed to the fowl that once played with him when he was younger.

life preys on the unwitting, the discombobulated minds of the many. for life is a wicked wicked woman. Machiavelli said famously that Fortune is a woman, and now i think that poor Man is he who is chained by women of sorts. O Fortune, O Life, 'tis pity thou art women who thrash thine hair wildly about, for such women are accursed, and Man who hath been your prey art just as accursed. O bitter bitter Life, thou feedeth us with thine wine so sweet, that when we doth awake, our minds art so clouded we see nothing but thine evil heart.

I broke down today while waiting, partly from the waiting, and partly from the foolishness I had shown myself to be capable of as I waited. I was utterly disappointed with myself for believing that waiting would not be abortive. I am tired. Oh I am so so tired. The morning comes ... the wait ends.

God i am so tired i can fall into a bush of thorns and think i am in Your embrace.