A loveless life,
Without passion or resentment,
Without the nag of partner,
Nor the bald patches of stress,
With all its freedoms of choice choking me,
The ability to choose disabled me,
The want for new has left me, ruined,
The ambitious are wary of life without ambition,
The loveless, are wary of everything, for to feel is to die in complete surrender of the moment.
To feel is to allow the moment to grasp at us and shake us till new breathe feels our lungs.