i don't know if it's my phone

beginning to ring or someone

somewhere drilling.

i don't know if it's the onset of madness

or someone somewhere beginning

to sing.

what are these grand novels i have in my head,

ideas that i love so much that i know for sure

i won't ever write them down?

they are the fetuses of shelters, afterbirths

of barrage balloons, after a night of carpetbombing.

what does that that say about the distance from reality

that i need in order to love

and so how in love i always feel distant?

the only difference between a civil war and suicidality

is that a nation can always be united by a greater enemy

but not the mind.

what if my phone is actually ringing

while someone somewhere is actually drilling?

how will i tell chance from madness? healing from death?

~ ajay

12/7/2024