Things that fall out of reach. A lovers smile misplaced like car keys before the daily slog into work. Being as though I don’t drive, I’ve no idea what that feels like, but I imagine it’s as pointless as everything else. Burn your calenders. Rip out the pages of your diary and stuff them down the toilet. Flood every inch of this life that serves no purpose other than to pacify you. They’ll condemn us all to abject misery if we’re not careful. They’ll bury us in make believe rules and false currency, and if we don’t open our eyes, we’ll suffer it willingly. We already do, we just turn the other eye and pretend that we’re in control. Sing me a song. Raise your head to the heavens and speak the truth. There’s no god to listen, but the universe hears everything. It swallows every lie, and treasures every feeling. And the purer the better, for honesty is an element growing scarcer by the minute. It’s thin on the ground, just like meaningful opinions. Falling fast like rain beneath a harvest moon, my hands tremble as thoughts of death whisper to me invisibly. So many passing feelings. So many lingering doubts that I’m doing things wrong. Should be regular like everyone else. Occupied by banality, and proud to represent tedium. Just let me be. Let me float in the dirty seas in an effort to be clean. My loves are different to yours, they always have been, and they always will be. No need to explain, just let me go and watch as I fade like a flame in the rain. Cigarettes somewhere out of hand, the days drag ever on. When the day is done, there’s nothing left to reclaim. No images. No passion. The night calls me home, and all I want is to be in your arms once more. The abyss is too much at times. It’s womb and tomb and it drags me down like you wouldn’t believe. I wish you could follow me and keep me company. Just to shine a little light when I’m at my lowest. But the path is as dark as it is long. I’ll take a photograph instead. To remember how beautiful you looked, and how your eyes gleamed in the summer sun. All those fleeting moments, gone like the wings of a butterfly come the end of a story where I am you, and you are me.