Sometimes you see an old face, remember an old memory that tinge of sadness attached to that memory may have jagged edges to prod and puncture the skin reopen old wounds and cause the listless night to draw to an unsatisfactory end. The curiousity of the cool night air nothing more than a discomfort and yet even in the most perfect sunny days the sky appears to be grey. To bare a smile that brings tears with it, are you happy or sad? do you lose yourself in the past or in the future or do you simply live for the moment? Do you wait for death? Waking every day, more melancholic than the last, impatience quickly settling and fermenting within your tampered soul? The truth is an onion. Every layer bringing a new understanding of life and more often than naught bringing a new unhappiness with it. Truth may be perception and that perception for me is a greater sense of discontentment. I notice though my eyes seem wiser they also seem duller and to hear one call me an untapped intellectual was oddly intoxicating and humorous all at once. There has to be meaning to these long hours awake left only with the echo of my own voice in my head whispering things I would rather have left unsaid. Precarious mind so full of restricted emotions ranging from pain to melancholy to anger to discontentment to hopelessness. What hides behind my flesh is ashen bones and weakened organs decaying slowly into nothingness as the clouds cover the sky and the stars fall to symbolize the one forgotten and lost for eternity