8:18 AM, no caffeine, no cessation.

Matutinal heartache. It happens.

I'm not fooling anyone with this message

A fool indeed, striking out more times than a hand count

With our obvious laceration and wasted potential, would you burn with me? Would you burn back into me?

I'm a broken record in a two-toned room

Pining for vicinity, tossing and turning over enervation, being absent from the bed-side

I could sense the universe in you

A constellation almost aligned

But doomed beneath the principle of curse

An implausible denouement, hallowing calculations

I swore I was permanent and said I was never coming home

With you, impossible,

And indestructible