i wonder about the feeling of drowning in air.  

is it from childhood, this feeling.  

have i carried this feeling inside me all this time. 


what is the feeling of this time.  


not what i carry from childhood.  

can i ever differentiate emotions from the air. 

is there no question.

the vibrating ground, how much is the fear that has no beginning, the feelings that have always been there, here, the childhood vagaries, experience into memory.  

and how much is the grid, the systemic trials, to contain the fear, how much to cause other fears, beyond reason and instinct, to distract from the real, to control the people through their inchoate emotions, their childhood search for comfort, safety, and how much of the feeling of being overwhelmed, of drowning in air, is the rising despair of living now. 


it seems i have nothing but questions in a time where the answers to every question, asked or inchoate, are systemically, preemptively, deadly.

if there is no question, only this, there is nothing but this unanswered question unasked. 

i will feel embarrassed for all time, unless.