I wish so much for clarity. A direction. A sign. Something not dependant upon my emotions to illicit an answer. Please.
Time existed not for him
10:52 p.m.//09.04.07
I wash up along shore, atrophied and limp from confusion. I lie in wait for rescue from the torment of our union. Our time here is numbered and the thought of suffocating in the poisons you're made out of is wearing. You are wearing. You've stolen everything from me. I can take some good away with me, and I'll try not to see this lapse of time as naught.
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