February 24, 2007
In the shapes on the wall from objects unseen, I wonder if you linger in the shadow. Are you caught in the riptide of this life and the next? Perhaps you’ve moved onto the next, and I have merely lost my sanity. Finally. We’ve lost our minds. Fallen to the throes of all that death entails. I would probably laugh in the face of an apparition. Contrition on behalf of the dead means nothing. Is it hard understanding I’m incomplete? Gone out on a sour note and the pungent stench remains in your wake. Everything I do affected by you.