Cataract of mind, a muslin clouding thought, a lattice of uncertainty and dim unfamiliarity.
“She loves me” and “She loves me not” both now a “Maybe, sometimes.” I’m ambivalent, myself.
Gray areas preponderate: worse, darker in the offing, whales but motion in the bleary water.
I know where it’s going. There will come a morning when it isn’t clear if any sun has risen.