Death looks best when one is persistently ill and still, must go to work. It is just a bad cold that I have but the way it has magnified my already vast resentment of The Canary Prison is grimly monstrous. Ghostbabies flock to the mailbox and though this is very comforting indeed, I still feel like a hollow fragile thing filled with bitter poison. I suppose that at the moment this is quite literally what I am. How unspeakably dismal the minutes, hours, days and years of my captivity are to contemplate. "Hush!" I tell myself, "Why aren't you more grateful? Isn't it work that permits you to buy your treasures?" Well...yes, but my treasures are largely consolation for the unforgivable theft of my never to be returned time. I hoard hours of solitude and fill them with Nothing and these I treasure most of all. To simply BE and not to do is all I really crave. All that we do is one day mercifully left behind but perhaps Being itself continues, is transformed, I pray, into some enduring freedom difficult for our mortal selves to fully comprehend. We all feel it of course, dreams and ghosts and many things but the real proof is that, though it is hard to express, we all understand what infinity is. Death is a doorway to the unknown.
A doorway to a better place? That is the mystery and the fear and the hope. I loathe and hate my captivity to be sure, but I do still love the world and being alive in it. I cannot deny being human fills me with disgust and revulsion much of the time...I would rather be a cat, or a stone. However, this habitual feeling instantly dissolves completely whenever I see a baby or in the contemplation of works of art. I cannot be grateful for my exploitation, even to try seems stupid. I don't think I should be grateful for something that causes me such endless suffering despite the possibility that things might be much worse without it. I know first hand the shame and fear of destitution. I have been homeless and penniless more than once in my time and been devoured by the sorts of desperation this incites. Truly, Death is nothing to fear.
