How does it feel?

And why should we care? And where are we staring and can't we compare...? It's unbearable sometimes and last I perceived it was mourning in motion emotional ride through these torrents persisting in places I'd never imagined I'd go wouldn't choose to to lose you or any of all these events have unfolded me into a canyon of tears and the years are now stretching me sometimes and retching behind open doors into living rooms only imagined by others and slowly the tempter presides over whimsical musical kingdoms I hasten to say I relate and the paths these things lead me down holler approval or worse and I take every morsel it's killing me slowly or not and the rotting inside don't smell pretty and creases increasing and pains evermore ever moreso it's killing me makes me morose and so morbidly drawn-in like Ian Curtis wasting infinity biding my timeless complaint til you manage to rock me.

ZL