AMKent books

All I have is a seat on the carousel of sorrow, and the intermissions between the next ride. Linear does not mean progression, that was my misconception of things. It aches, everywhere and almost all the time, like I said, intermissions. There’s a whole lot of stories that can be, some might be the best sensation ever. I have no appetite though, like those who starve and thirst for so long that to satiate them too much would only kill them quicker. Conundrums, no one said things would be baseline, they just hope, but in the era of social constructions how long will hope last. I wanted my mother, emotional foundations were crumbling. I got her, and lost something in return, it’s no one’s fault but my own. I had a choice, or at least it seemed that way, I had lost a lot that year, this ended up being the biggest. I’m in a limbo, voices echo from the mist telling me to keep walking this way and the other, apparently it ends. I wonder, are they in the found, a paradise or an earth, hell, somewhere in between, or maybe it’s all just a more pleasant part of limbo ? Crazy, the mammalian flea drank bittersweet blood, a snake sheds skin, a tarantula does the same, lots of things do. Cyborgs and biological purges, string changes and new engines, smiles and frowns along with dry eyes and wet ones. Somewhere there’s ‘something’, how useful that ‘something’ is though? I guess it’s up to my imagination.