As I return to the holy pen and paper, he breathes heavily beside me in a slumber so forcibly induced. Can we absorb the pain that's been afforded us out of such greed? Can we endure a future so blindly driven? My mind blanks as he exhales~from moment one I have been waiting to hear it; the silence so internal, the uncensored physicality of his will. His dark eyes shall never deter me, for I'm willing to wait until they brighten, however long it takes. My candle-lit cigarette holds the key to mercy at this hour. "Lonliness is the human condition," and nothing besides~thus, with my drugs, I'll resign. If only he'd show me...something~from his other side. His min rages at best and pulses in rest; such depth I would kill for in kind. Daily strife reveals but a fraction of us to eachother. Where is this reality I'm seeking? Be it speed or weed, it's naught but the same game we're playing. Does he admire me? Are his thoughts clean and do I hold precedence within them? And anyway, who's to say but he? The question is born then~will he ever? Such charades as this have brought me nothing more than pain at the ends of all this haze. So why bother with the gain of this when it's so hard to embrace with him these feelings of late? So keep exhaling, my sweet nothing; in a matter of hours we'll meet in dawn's mourning. If you see me, say hello, and we'll talk about something~something less pertinent each day.