The past is done, the morning resides. The years fall away, there's no desire left in me. A stubbornness lives on, nothing more. Pain accumulates. We don't live in the same scenario. I take what's left. The energy dwindles. Damaged to a crawl. Remote conversations keep me going. Maybe it's the identity I want to play with. Maybe I have nothing more. You dream of nothing more than to sit in silence and get lost in images. To figure this thorn of broken desires. Feelings get thrown out of the way. Perhaps I just decided there was nothing left in me. I'd only be left in debt at the energy bank. Dreams are built differently these days. Passions play a part but you're known to drive people away with your demeanour. You're just like all your favourite songs - a broken man destroyed by life and someone who alienates. Feels like there's nothing left. 20 years of further alienation compounded by grief and trauma. You believed in lies because they were all you had...
The secret garden of despair.