A thorn is my only defense against the world’s rage; a sack full of cognitivity my unique patrimony to escape. With the help of these friends, there is no space for infections, depending on the day, I may fill pools with antiseptic mental recreations. The twist of my upper body when I face the authority appears to be conflicting. Likes and dislikes, in and out lists, who matches who or matches what? I cannot swallow injustice although bitter is my favorite flavor; will we do a “in good terms” couple? There is not such a thing as a single crash, they don’t come alone, some may be sprouting on their own but what usually happens is a pile-up, chain reaction, or a head-on collision, sudden and mortal. I don’t have that problem anymore; I don’t see any sailors ahoy. To the hell with the crews of all existing merchant boats as well as with the very same Marine corps. It is what it takes; to walk alone, martial in my way, strict with myself as I would be a Victorian principal. Tell me you have the certainty, the blind faith, (ha! as if faith would other than blind), that someone else is completely trustworthy and would risk anything at any time for you. Maybe you are a lucky person… I prefer to direct my trust towards my step, and stumbling, better than stopping the motion of limbs, and lose the breath of life, just because someone, once, made a promise. The meaningful marriage, the devote supporter membership with ourselves is so often forgotten and undervalued, that we walk together alone; narcotized, once again, just because someone told us so. B_Nour
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