There’s a kind of loneliness that no one and nothing can help you diminish. It creeps on you like a slug and the day slows to a deepening agony. You have no where to go. The softness of this illusion soothes you; and you won’t even get out or try to because it is dark and warm in here. The whole thing is just too tender. I don’t know. But the ecstasy smokes… malingers… sleeps.
Well all this happened like two weeks ago. I won’t even bother to remember it because I don’t need to. I’ll always remember it. It’s becoming a part of me, fusing with my body. And I’m walking out of it now as a different person.
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