Somethign has finished today, i dont know if i know what it is. Apologises are not coming, and memory still working, i no longer have the strength to live on imaginings. It was to much of a promise, too abrupt a denial. I cannot bear it. It found me weak, vulnerable.What has died is my hope. Now at last i feel physical pain, the horrible emptiness of having desire violently in the void. The body rebels. Bitterness at last burns me. And this. I was full of poetry, and therefore more than ever streched out toward climax.
Again
i am in a quest of a new life, or trying to fight to still have this.
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