There is this inside of me plays a role,

my everyday state of mind remains

rather static without a lot of challenge.

That internal measuring stick holds

my world in a timeless vacuum of

constant, evaluative, emotional angst.

While always around me the world

plays out its natural course of things,

still evident is a silent discontent.

Easy as it is to remind ourselves of

pleasurable experience and fantasy,

yet we always remain our central critic.

A long time ago, the word passion 

became my grace, my sweetest lover.