I wish I could speak eloquently of the many ways a presence can ruin ones soul. A simple presence.

Words dance off walls before they were ever spoken, yet it speaks them. Screams them The beat of a heart does not quicken as you assume. No. It painfully slows. Growing in decibel, the room can hear. It implies. Left, precisely 732 bricks on each side, muted light, and a dull aching pain. Is this loss? Loss without formal acquisition? What is this dull. pounding. pain, ripping, rupturing the walling, killing the cage? What is this hallowed hell of knowledge? What is beneath this flesh faade, barricaded by bones? Vapor. Innocent vapor. Untouched. Bruised by thought, broken by hope, mutilated by the shear need of a match empty carcassed soul. Empty. Lost. Fear in found. I always thought love would be a kind filling feeling. Hatred is all I see. You see, Im pretty sure it all ends in fire. The warmth, comfort, the vision drawing you in to take take what? A last congested breath? Worth. That final choking, smoke coated breath, worth little to the world. Worth all to us. Me. You? The worst is knowing how it should be and seeing how it isnt. It would not take that much yet, from you, so much from me.