Someone said that
sentiments are prison cells.
As one cannot run away
to a Kantian Noumenonal world
or escape to a Maya temporarily
at least for a minute or so.
Like a satellite
one keeps orbiting around them
funded by latent heat of remorses.
They die only with the dead
and live only with the living.
Nirvana can censor them
but not erase from the drawers
of neurons.
Ultimately we are
what our circuits do
day in and day out.
In this fight club
the member cannot fight.
Thy Vox 
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