“Release me, I demand of you, now, do it!” this argument will last forever. My head screams at me to find release in it, to bathe with it, but no, my capture will never free their arms from around my waist and my heart.
Ah to be months back, times were different, more shallow it’s true, but who isn’t shallow these day’s in some form or another I ask you. I shared hands, paths and all things that lead to my happiness. We declared romance, right and the innocence of capturing each other, like falling from a great height yet landing softly, on feathers that build around our minds.
Now look at me, my skin had felt o soap in weeks, tears the only salvation, making roads in the dirt. Sweat, urine makes the air sweet and sickly to the point where senses merely jolt instead of puke. Ingrained mud, coffee and faeces can only be detected by science from prints of fingers and hands.
“I beg you, my good foe, let me leave you. I yearn for normality again, for to be clean of heart, body and mind, let memory punish me now. I have no anger, no fear, and no tears left for you, please, I beg of you”
. . . . . . . . . . “No, my dear sweet boy, I will never let you go, not until that is, you have strength enough to push me away, then and only then, will I loosen my grip, you pathetic, pitiful man, have you no sense of yourself, I am Grief, I am forever.”