You watch it burning slowly down. Moments between instances. What stops me in this. Silence. No expectation. A void. Avoiding. Listening for the air through the vents. That sound in the silence. Waiting all day for that silence. That non event. 

What escape. Pure freedom. Listening. Inactive. Holed in. Thinking. Between orders and expectations. Tasks and trouble. The next thing to do and what is expected. But this. Moment. Lethargic slow burning moment. Listening to air pass elsewhere. This is my choice. 

Those moments when it gets put aside. Above the sea. Surrounded by consequence rather than construction. And nobody sees it. Nobody realises. Planning, thinking, creating... The birth of all happiness in those moments where nothing is expected. Free. 

It cannot last. 

And every moment burns shorter still. Squeezed by the weight of expectation. Smells less sweet. Produces less fruit. And another bomb will set in motion the next phase of death and rebirth. The same mistakes. 

Nothing stops you.