Your ceramical-faced poetry is heartening, despite its woe. As long as gangrene doesn't claim my frost-bitten toe, I'll be able to swim against storm currents without flippers, on a diet of trout & kippers while you must “live” on imitation chocolate wafers & tap roots, dog parts & Cebu City bamboo shoots. It could be cranial-5-nerve trigeminal neuralgia, the suicide disease, that plays like the sledge-hammering of jangled vibraphone keys. I feel not my left lung, nor my palate & tongue after losing a gangrenous toe on a broken ladder rung.