I find myself wallowing, not wanting much more, needing to demand of myself a sharper edge, required, increasingly happy as activity decreases,

I decline otherwise to consider if this ok, rather just do, whenever I have the chance, the time, a moment unexpected, seeking solace in the hallow,

I wallow in what was and could have been and now what is, and what I should do, and want to do also, not oft’ do these cross-over,

Cross my heart and hope to die I don’t, want to live on a long while yet for more hallow, more wallow, my special comfort in darkness and warmth,

My special comfort, wallowed in hallowed ground.