What feeling?
What weight?

When you want to connect with somebody, touch their chord, but it just is not there for you and never will be?
Is it something missing in me?
Is it something missing in others?
Is it something missing for now and ever after?

When you are yearned for but you are indifferent and the waves continue to flow, only now they are bent?

When you are the one who implanted the permanent heavy bags under her eyes and deepening wrinkles?
When the cold metal tone fork resonates?

When you jockey with the controls and the interface and it leaves you at the debut anew?
When memory toys with you in its twisted hands because you can draw from nowhere other than its wells for present use?
When you shift from thought chamber to thought chamber and the melting is like a picture within itself and within itself?

When the threshold of expectation and doubt slices down your center like a razor blade and the wound has not begun to hurt but you can see that it is deep and clean and it is only a matter of seconds before it will begin to flower into incredibility?

When you are left alone and speechless and at a loss and have nowhere to go and the innocent simplicity is icily maddening?

When you cannot get over the fact that the blue hot horrors only work in the known frame, a thought supplanting your place within the frame and thus the horrors touch you not?
And when the warps multiply?

When brutality rules and life feels a convincingly unnatural order?
When your own subtle brutality is essential but it still drives you nauseous?
When it drives you?

When thoughts threaten triteness but ring pertinent and the taste is like bile?

When the century's masterpiece is a baby and its air?
When flowers splend but leaves crispen?
When shriveled, swarthenned roses beatify the color of the mirror?

When the spleen splatters its rainbow onto the windshield and the wipers screech longly and slowly and coarsely?

When you force-feed yourself loving because it is your best option?
When are you damned?

When the pith shifting new policy of holding your temples steady is the only path to some life and father weeps his personal tragedy, mourning the death of his son?

When you tell her that she will not go to hell for having slept with you?

When you search yourself in the mirror and breaking it with the best friend?

When you you, that is as opposed to you be?

This is the occasion to allow overwhelmsion to drown you.
This is the time to take comfort in the fuzzball for it's own sake.