/unconsoled, lonely, so much better than I used to be.\

how then, and now, emptiness.
how much more a song can resonate within this body of mine when I've got an aching heart...every word we nod along to as if it were the description of our everyday experience..wanting to scream our anxst out into the night. but there is no way to escape the day that is always gaining on us....still drunk I wake with the sun to roam around this town bordered with beautiful fields for corpses; they save the prettiest lots for the dead, while the rest of the land here gets filled with the saddest looking sorts of structures...asquare feet and barbeques..to live out your days in the same little spot and die in comfort..not for me, not for me, none of this has ever been for me..but where.
I feel that burning in my spine all over again....and I can't help but hold onto your thought, but why do I do this?..I wonder if Augustine was right when he spoke of the perverse sweetness we enjoy when engaged in mourning...do I think of you in this sad way to basque in the poetic beauty that is the tragedy I ascribe to the storybook synthesis of memories of you and me?...am I merely a selfish, self-proclaimed protagonist enjoying the sound of his own story as the words bounce off the walls of his skull.....
Do I talk to myself, and say 'I love you' to a ghost for the sheer strange pleasure of embracing sadness to the fullest...glorifying my suffering?....NO.
I do not...there is simply too much fire in this heart of mine, words upon words pile up on top of one another as the day rolls onward and as we drive around these familiar frameworks...I miss you; what you used to mean to me..and I resent the world so bad baby. It's real and I am alone..burning and more alive I suppose....I do not glow though, for without your eyes I am invisible...
unrequited love is tough-to devote a life to one who wishes not to reciprocate-this choice becomes a scam for words the moment the hurting man picks up his pen to embark upon a life of creation....tapping into the most obvious of painful situations to bring about emotional creativity...this option is foolish-even cowardly...cliche....what hurts more is loving someone you force yourself to let go of only to remind yourself that they would've loved you forever.