I’ve never known much about life or death, heck I know nothing of life to now, mine has been more of a scenic picturesque that changes ever so slightly. Now I find myself content or maybe quite annoyed at what I’m getting from it, my emotions always too wild, my satiation sadly never grazed, it is tasteless.
These past few days, I’ve seen death glaring at me, no longer by corner of his eye, no more of his usual look for find, this time he seems more certain. So he watches by my every step lest I should fall and he were’nt there fast enought to grab, his demeanor much more festered to my acceptance of what I knew he bore, his eyes umoving even now as I scribble upon this page. He knocks wantingly on my desk and it goes without question that he is frustrated, and mine shall be a painful one.
Time fleeting, I dread how she’d take it, but I once read that hearts were ever so tough so maybe she’ll heal. Except these minds with their thoughts, wildfires unquenchable. Even clucthing harder to this pen, I still can’t shake that damned hook from my head. For he had a name on a napkin, mine and only mine!.