you emerged from the ether this evening, proximal in digital format; that smile, your face, your voice, all of which i had shifted into the background now rest as heavy ripples and waves, warrants for arrests to challenge my existence. my mind always awash with the best captures of you, as you took the best of me with you. what am i to do? Constantly in battle in a war that i cannot win, with losing myself. There doesn’t seem to be any moving forward only stagnancy and despondence. Maybe next time i’ll die. I doubt i’ll ever see a difference in this point of view. where do i draw the line, throughout the course of the morning? the corresponding afternoon? in the repeat of the evening? Hitting the wall, the consuming and exhausted km after Km? Eh, why bother. Time’s my damage, inconsistency and hell an exposure of self without defence. I sometimes know where I’ve been and my actions dictate where i’m heading. I lack the maturity and emotional intelligence to be able to handle the reality and burden of self nor the relics of physical and intellectual turmoil and decay. Why stay when i cannot define clear evidence of a future without being irretrievably lost within myself, without being a laborious burden…. I don’t see difference or capacity to change, or worth or action, just stray days and falling apart, and failing to thrive. So, how does one survive with limited capacity?