days blend into days
time is but a construct
the news doesn't change
but the world is 
and i don't like it
and maybe i'm getting hung up on minor things
a sweater caught on a splinter
the longing for a smile
i can't even remember your voice
i don't want to think too deep
because there's not an escape from those waters
not anymore
because the life ring is gone
 

it's still carved into the dock.
the name of  certain british actor we all used to worship
and then it happened.
i don't know what that it was
but i believe it was sprung from my filthy, darkened soul
no matter how much you say it's not my fault
i'll still blame myself
for nobody else is deserving of the blame
and it still sits there
and i'm not sure if it's a memorial or a commemeration
but it's still...

the lack of your presence is suffocating
not morning mist is the bright sunlight
but an ever-looming gloom
and i don't know how the lack of one's presence seems to be a physical form
but it is.
a longing, small child tugging on a dirtied sleeve
empty eyes longing for a hug or a smile
something, starving through the winter
weeping, sorrowful tears soaking the off-white carpet for something taken for granted
lying in repose
waiting
waiting.  
as the breath...