whatever is left to decided away the momments passing into grey blurred memmories i commiserate. the passing summers regurgitate their miserys and passing times until i can communicate them in brief passages. i no longer feel alone and physically i guess i'm not, neither emotionally perhaps intellectually but something still feels like its not there and maybe it never was or will be. the ends of stories reach out touching my hands above the nights skies illuminating the questions of why i am still with this thought and how long can i continue to be.