Time unwinds to the point where I will only see extended fog. Will I ever breathe fresh air, or continue to be unaware I don't care. Its existence is proven, like that of the fountain of youth. My originality resides in the failures of others. I knowingly make a full course meal of forbidden fruit.
Raindrops carve initials on earth that is god's wooden table.
Pain, unphysical, has been to often felt and experienced through others. The hallway of my pain has been trampled upon and is recreated daily. It only reemerges in new bred form. The comprehension of other people's anguish only compounds my own guilt to the level of intolerable loathing. My mind feels astray, and the taste of halite from my tears will never go away.