I wish I knew

I am holding on to my sanity by a hand already strained with incredible force. Everything that is written here I believe, and don't believe so why would I waste my time with the duality of writing it, it would seem that one does not always benefit from ones own wisdom, and that would be a fool. Maybe it is that I have none, as someone said better thought none than some and be the fool...heads nod in complicit agreement. We are all one thing but my little corner seems slightly askew, I love that word, it is rare, as its meaning and sound seem the same. If you read this article you will get an idea of what can happen to someone. It is not necessarily that I am the spiritual nomad referred to, certainly quite the opposite of a saint, but you can be on this road without knowing where you are and there is no map. Truly lost is what you could say about the situation, traveling at the speed of light to the 7th level of Dante Allighieri's hell is a common theme. Hell must surround you and take you prisoner, no sane man, my polar opposite, would venture there of his own accord. And that is how I arrived. Maybe feeling insane is good therapy, chin up, chest out no worries here mate, just a visitor, temporarily indisposed, pay no attention to the man in the corner talking to himself. Everything is doing quite nicely at falling apart, I have never seen such efficiency, the yang of the yin seems to be a tight operation nothing out of place here.
Writing these words is even a mystery, with no idea what is coming. It is really quite a sensation as I desperately try to understand what it is I am supposed to do. What should I say, what words, what meme, what great idea, what philosophy, what god will free me. Rescue me. Nothing. It is all stitched in place, trapped like my brother rat in a cage of mystical complexity, stuck to myself, railing and howling for what I don't know, I just know it is, and right now my isness isn't all that.