one strand at a time coming out of my head. landing in my waiting hands.

one song into the next assembling the night. darker and darker until sound is all there is.

the future happens in every new breath we take. change imagines us until to it we become real again.

voices filter through the words as memory incants. what i knew then. what i know now. always a battle. forget it. or be forgotten. and how to know the difference.

swallow the poison and know that death is imminent. and be at last contented because. but some poisons work too slowly. and others still, much too fast.