Musings: My thoughts themselves are slippery beasts. And try as I might I cannot grip them, slick as soap.

My thoughts themselves are slippery beasts. And try as I might I cannot grip them, slick as soap. Could I cast a net and tame them still... tame the fire that burns its fill. My teeth, beg to be sunk. Deep into the meat and marrow of.. what is the word for it? Nirvana? I live to exist in the cusp. The brink. The tip of a moment. A crest so rushing and powerful it removes, sheds... releases and cries.. cries to stay. But, forcibly thus, must be fleeting in order to exist. The true addicts nightmare. Never sated but for the extreme. And I am me. I am me. Forgive me not. I am me enough.

14.07