Strip away her pain and feed it to the abyss.

Tell me what to do and I'll hire someone to do it. Tell me what to think and I'll suffocate on my lack of impulse.

I'm stranded where I crumble and I miss you--feeling like I killed you. Feeling no feeling, only nauseau. The threat of tears. Grating.

No crescent moon to guide me as I sink into the unreality of truth. As I survive powerless. Run for shelter. I'll stay searching for the best place to anchor and when that storm comes I hope it tears me apart, because I don't want to feel.