Many wish to do much. He wishes to undo. He wishes to unact his part, to unruin the ruins. He wants to uncreate the troubles yet he does not how, how to stop it, how to rewind it. Though that does not suffice, he wants to unplay all the scenes, to unrecord the spectacle. This cannot proceed. He wants to unsay what was said, unwrite the things he wrote, unpromise the things he promised. Why can’t he unremember, unpack the memories trapped in his mind? If only all could be unknown, undone, now and forever. If only it were possible to unfeel the pain and to uninflict it, to unfear the spotlight and unspot the light. Why hasn’t he the right to unsee her shadows in the darkness, or to unhear the whispered cries of the lost; those talking terrors? He prays to untaste his share of bittersweet. He needs to unregret the mistakes, he wants to unblame himself. He wants to unwed her, to ungive her, to untake from her. Perhaps even he could unbreak the broken. He wants to unlove her. To unfind her only to unlose her, how soothing that would be!
If he could only unend her performance. Had he the power to unclose the curtains, nothing would have stopped him. He wants to uncut her life’s cord. He wants to unbe rather than she. He wants to undig the holes and unbury the burdens.
The deeds done he cannot undo. So he wants to unlive.