Your chicanery ways have begun to macerate me, and leave me staring blanky at this horrid screen, with only my rue to fraud it's bleak offering of companionship. Such Masquerades, such dibochery. This illusion of happiness is slowly beggining to fade.

I'm perspiring with twinging thoughts, mostly of how this motionless heap of me is lying un-self conscious perpendicular to the floor. sprawled out with your picture in one hand, and an unidentified, unmarked empty bottle in the other... the deadliest of combinations.

So many words...... too many eyes

what do you say we end this....

Follow me down to the inchy crevices of what is left; of you, and of me. We're floating on a crashing pre-conceived notion of what used to be.