watching the past pushed into the history of a written words. here is decaying against the remorseful memmories that lay here and all that i must leave behind now. i will miss the abscence of this mystery that as left us at each others now locked doorsteps. the memmories fade and will be harder to retrieve than the words on this page that commemrate their existance, i will never remember but what will i never forget? maybe at some point there will be a reason to look back and see what it is that was, the cause is now and must move toward the forewords of the next relgion posted through out the collective concsiouness. only i am the end to this. only i can refer what is left to what is to know why the end of this is so impotent. the summer sun is heating itself to burn into fusion of light and heat across the scattered streets driven daily to be left dead at night. the city breaths its remnants of what it never was as the distance becomes a more and more likely place it will reside. in my heart there are a thousand miles and in this thousand miles an infintesimal but seemingly endless grains of sand that make this place more of a desert than when it is raining and everything begins to attract itself molecule by molecule, who knows what tomorrow will bring when to day is so inconlusive. the espansive knowledge of the days incursion have left the nothingness of the taste of the past grading agianst my teeth as the words fall out landing yeilding what it is that their is to be known. the rejection of what it is that you want is now only hovering with its implications over me now that you know there is no bending in my morals to suit your desires against the back drop of the seemingly endless strecth of the time we will spend now that this has passed and we are left staring head long into the futures grasping hands around strangled throats as its last breath of life is expounded against the sand and confounded to the doom of these words here. i am left with a screen to see and a keyboard to hold, because all is so empty that holds itself to be to see what it is that i can see inside of what it is that we could be. to day is dying away slowly as it can and before the time is passed it is slowed to a hault breifly to experinece this all in its intensity momment by passing momment. if this is nothing more than a dirge of remorse at least the guilt is elsewhere for there is none in me, goodnight to the long summer night thoughts of passion as now is the only time that is expereincable in the present and now is different from then or later through the endless distance and interactions that must be traveled, but today is just a picture in words now as i wrong the only wrong practice of practioning these words to mean something other than their direct content. the discontent or rathet malcontentment is swallowing the sounds of racket agaisnt the solem backdrop of eternal silence between lovers that once felt the outer extremites of what it is to passionately feel for and because of the other. the full implications of the situation have left me eternally differant and now almost perpetually saddened as those things are now part of a past i will coutinually distance myself from into the infintesimal and beyond