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Death is an asshole

My head is confused, my emotions are subtle and nearly flat. I don’t really know how to go, so I go as I always have...with perseverance and faith, inconstancy and doubt. I write that and ponder how one death, albeit the most important death other than my own, can make of an entire world an alien universe? I have survived nearly 18 months of grueling grief. Had I been asked to choose between this and running a weekly barefooted marathon on broken glass, I would have chosen the latter. But there was no choice, Death is an asshole that way, just shits on you and walks away. But thank you, really, Death. You exposed yourself for the fraud you are. You dare to take their carrion flesh, corpses are your trophies. I shit back at you. Stinking Death. Nothing you do takes the Love. NOTHING. That is exactly what you think you leave us with. Nothing. But you are so jaded, having killed so many and most without even a thought for how loved they ...
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Chattered, Shuttered

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 "The smell of burnt paper. The silence of the sitting bird. The leaf swaying. Things hold their form, but they lose them too. Re(again)peat, which like moss grows where undisturbed, things hold there, form, but they lose them to... I look out the window and no one appears. I see my reflection in the mirror and wonder why light bothers. Dust fills the air in applause of some wind. Dirt fills the pots, grease fills the pans... a fork in the road, a knife in the wrong hands. We mean to fill the empty spaces, smiling faces and lies that sometimes tell truths we wish not to acknowledge. Like urban pigeons who lay eggs on ledges where the winds can blow them away... Our faces slammed by a chattering book. Things hold their form, but they lose them too. Re(again)peat, which like moss grows where undisturbed, things hold there, form, but they lose them to..."
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No knows

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  Insight on epistemology:  one never can be certain of knowledge  in that it is renewable, expanding and questioning by nature. Feelings are experienced,  so they transcend the known and become manifest as being.  To close the circle, only true knowledge is of how we feel.  
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