"... stinging God now." I'm sick-- so fucking gutterally sick and there's no remorse. Just a flavorless slab of steel like ice over hurt and panic. I don't trust the dream, but I'm awake. And lost in a fork that Dante couldn't have predicted. So why is it I do not fall? Why can't I weep like I imagined I would? Why does it feel like it disrespects his memory to hurt? "Let me go I'll be fine-- Alone: The deepest pain I feel is being too broken to eulogize. --I miss you-- | �Repitition of Hatred�Loveless Avenue�Burn Out (and) Fade Away �Plofile�Notes�Host�Archive� |