I wonder if there are many people within everybody. Those who take hold of fierce emotion, by the hair or as if they were the handle bars when being bucked overhead by life.
Perhaps every emotion encapsulates a different affair, an affair with life and being. And worth and dieing. People who are acting behind the draws of this or that, on the cusp. A glimpse here and there, one more time with feeling, she who feels as if she is drowning or asleep, or the cultivator of many masks and personas. Emotions, are not like pinholes in the sky at night, for the darkness to swell and leak- depth and the many weaknesses all of which one can hold and transpire through a smile in both dull sulking arduous nights or through the day. – These remain present to the world and true to none.