Life creeping up, like a persistent maggot, eating through the havoc with a deadly appetite, reminds me of the side effects of holiness: such a divine place, such a lonely place, except when the suspicion of martyrdom arises. I so like it here, I so hate it here, I am checking on the spelling but not on the meaning, I am devouring the last crumbs of sense, hungry for confusion, lost in the disappointment of a miracle still pending, trusting that my inner voice will stop banging, praying that the noise will make sense as some tune, finally, hopefully. Life creeping up, musing on the nonsense of torture.