Point 21

I am sorrowing from the inside and realize there is nothing left.

Blamed chained and saving the back logs of each conversation we have had.

I don't know how you sound or what you look like when you arise.

But I am re-beginning to imagine it all again like it was in my mind once.

We are all part of Your game and story, the mythos continue ever so subtlety into orgasm.

We created You and we just as easily can forget You.

We betray one another and find that no one was telling the Truth anyway.

My friends be fickle and faith, each one are vices.

He watches over me while I sleep at night breathing down the crook of my spine.

I have night terrors and can't get back to sleep once His spirit consumes me.

His initials are engraved on my headboard with the savor of some sort of victory over any sense of self respect.

You are the He he tells me in a message, You are the She he tells me.

I only get dead air when I call the number You gave me.

But it was a long time ago, things have changed I guess.

I sold the book with your address written on it.

Did You ever get the shirt I sent?

Dru