Time Is Running Out.

listening to: cool - gwen stefani.
reading: nothing.
watching: michael jackson's this is it.
eating: banana paddlepop.
drinking: water.

a passing memory of you went by in a flash, the force of the fragments of image squealing their way through time and space, before they were gone; and there was absolute silence.
i used that small f-r-a-c-t-i-o-n of time to blank my mind, and think of nothing.
just white behind my retinas, swaying with my body a little, just to calm me down.

it's all over now. you aren't special. you aren't important. and you most certainly aren't a part of me. i've filled that space where your soul used to lie with candy bracelets, freshly discovered eateries, and a thriving sense of self. the two people who came after you are now first, and they have worked together to rebuild their web of love over the abyss that was the s p a c e you left.

i've delved into the cracks, and searched the dim lights, the rotting gutters where the prostitutes are slumped against walls, the rats chewing on five day old bread, the place where the people never see the sun, and only the suggestive lights of the district. and for what it's worth.

the other side WAS much greener.

an abstract painting which was supposed to resemble breasts, just a contortion of the only way i know how to describe that colour; the infamous dinosaur green. the eligible standard tone which is the world over associated with those prehistoric reptilius. searching for gifts to match each companion is assuredly my hardest task, but i find it worth it in the end, when each item screams the name of them, until my ears bleed from the pressure.

but i love you all. i miss you all. i need you all.