"One week left."

I'm shit scared. There's no elegance in that, nothing poetic or moving that can be written to describe it, nothing. Yes I miss you, yes I care so much sometimes it contricts around my throat like a silken scarf that is bound too tightly, yes I cannot breathe with ease. I cannot stay and it burns my eyes and my inverted tears drop into a sunken cavity pulsing with the ache of my loss. I lost my ideal, somewhere out there between this land and the next, over those ebbing waters I kissed my frog prince goodbye and lost my sweet virginity to the needle of painful cynicism. It coats the words in my mouth with a metallic web until they harden and drop out before me like blobs of cold steel. The trouble with living with metal is the chill that it fills you with at the onset of every embrace, every moment.

I cannot go gently into this good night, I cannot cast my heart aside for it continues to rage...rage against the dying of the light.