it's one of those nights again,
when the messy equilibrium
of feeling rears its head and
demands compensation for
the goodness i had so recently.

i guess i could discard
the convenient attachment
and simply blame my limbic
system for subjecting me to it,
but that's dis(honest) to my nature.

it's the worst kind: contemplative;
not grief, or [lone]liness, or any
other illness of the amygdala,        
(the heart pumps blood, and
blood is not a medium of feeling).