River To Madrid.

That

Chasm

It's always there

Teasing me

Luuuuuuring

Me

To look over that edge.

To maybe

Take

That

Step

Over

Into the abyss.

I'm not a lick stronger today than I've ever been. Probably weaker, to be honest.

Everyone I know goes away.

But not in the end.

Just periodically.

From time

to

Time.

My head is buzzing in a way it hasn't in quite some time. Up until now I've been able to keep this all under wraps.

But then I found those baubles.

Those

Fancy things

That I once cherished, and held oh so very dear.

And they fill me with regret.

And loathing.

Loathing for myself. For the world. But especially for circumstance.

I'll never meet anyone like any of you, ever again.

Each one of you, you very, very special few, have stung my heart in a way, and affected me in a way, that has never, and will never

Be repeated.

It just makes me sad that we always grow apart. Every. Single. Time.

I can't stop

Paging through this thing

This booklet

Full of memories

Full of my regrets

I turn the pages

Over and

Over and

Over, every time hoping

For some sort of

Revelation

Some kind of

Thought

That will change everything.

But as I thumb these pages

As I turn them over

And over

And over again

As I take in the sweet scent of years gone by

All I find

Is sadness

And fear

This booklet

It is me, in a way

It is every

Important thing

That has happened

A chronicle of

Past events

Past regrets

Past hope and past promises

But everything

On those

Pages

Fills me with a despair

That I

Just

Can't

Shake.