This is the path I take every day. I get lost. And name it “home.”
I am not a good father.
I am not a good son.
Nor…a good lover.
I do not know what it means to be a human.
I do not know if what I do is what is called ‘thinking.’
I assume (PRE-sume) I’m a-live.
This is what I do. Again and again and again… (ad infinitum)…
I try, errr, perhaps… I am.
She said.
I was working.
Things happen.
Perhaps.
Every day.
Polysemic Stupor 
Happy Holidays and Merry Christmas dear B Filbert, Thank you, Love, nia
& also to you, dearest Nia
I have said the same to myself so many, many times. We must take the smiles and hugs given us as proof to the contrary. A blessed New Year to you, Friend. xxxxxxxxx