he says

develop a routine

over and over and over and over and you can hear the sound of that phrase like the water that pounds the shorelines to sand

so you scrape together the bits and pieces and scraps and tatters of your attention and time and resources and sanity and

against every odd no sane bookie would ever agree to

you create the island you were commanded to create: And it works

you want to dance on its beaches and make forts in its trees and nap in the cool safe caves

And he washes chaos over your safe harbor, every inch

destroyed by his insistent assertion that this routine

does not apply to him