Clang, Clang, Clang, are you ever so tired yet? Ever so weary of the sound your steely being makes every time you wake up, every time you move about, you reach for another and Clang Clang Clang, everything around you comes crashing down, every simple effort becomes such a chore doesn't it?

I will, and I am, and I promise to. But with every smelted attempt to communicate with another being you've ended up stabbed me, wounded in ways I will only attempt to fathom; to you this is a victory, and to you and your steely salted self you believe that is the intention of your existence, to win. You rusty old imbecile, all that bloody noise you make, all that ruin you wrought believing it achieved something, I've gone this far, wasted just enough of too much of my time and energy on such a short encounter so perhaps it is indeed I who is at fault, but even who I am there are a few things I refuse to let slip by.

So let this be a tack on my wall, a tattered note and a reminder; if only to me. That some beings are simply so scared and so toxic, that they will only poison the crops they sought so hard to grow; and indeed by mistake the crops of so many others. Touch my shoulder and I will always turn around with care, with ease I promise, but when you selfishly remove all that was kindness in my gestures just to win another of your victories, by the infinite might of a thousand Gods I will personally forget you into a hole in the ground.

I am learning.. Slowly. But mark my words so too will you. Clang.
Clang.
Clang.



(My apologies in advance, just a bit of a vent, what I am unable to meditate away sometimes sticks with me, we'll return to your regular "Zen" Zenuel tomorrow.)