Fixed star

There was nothing wrong with the day;summer rolled on from warm to weta serendipity of flavours,but I was stuck in monochrome.I’d nothing left to say,the weight of it betrayed the light,left me pulverised by time:here I am in the middle way underwhelmed,not sure which way to turn, yet every way is “me”.I’m stuck fast in the slow swell of choicelike a rat caught in a wheel “entre deux vies”and love seems so far away, as far away as yourunning in the opposite direction.