Dropping bombs

Aix-en-Provence and Marseille, France

After almost two weeks of healing and writing in Zurich,
I return solo to the south of France to confront some

Unfinished business.

A brief return 
brings a (RESURGE)

of anxiety and (DESIRE)

of reconstruction and deconstruction (X)

questioned and (UNQUIETED)
arousal of (AGITATION)

(EXPLODES) me and 
everyone i know
now
like a t t tick ing   time    BOMB

so far from 
reality is the middle of knowhere

(inside the mindtunnel in the future of what is to come what will never be what's happened)
contemplating how nowhere

so distant from

the present       is arising is arising   its coming     its coming         its going    neverwhere

resurfacing at the level of sensations 
reacting at the level of communication
(making love 
making hate
making meaning 
    from whatever fucksense
        that arises)
[fuck that]

from the forests the mountains the sea
i flee back to a body
in pain and 
incomplete
in need of 
healing
(Y)

on the road again

At 3pm in the afternoon, I leave Aix-en-Provence and hitchhike four vehicles straight to Paris by 1am. Engaged in the most deep back-to-back conversations about religion, business, history, memory, family, and philosophy with the drivers, I begin to wake up from the self-conjured nightmare.