It was cold. Outside and in it was cold! You know it would be warm where ever you brought me. I knew too. Two lost hearts walking with out holding hands. That would come later and one heart would find salvation. Cobblestone and brick the color of blood basking in our desired misery. My desired misery that you remedied one time, one night. I would give that back now if I could. It is better to be alone and loved than unwanted and discarded. It is better to be alone and loved, than unwanted and alone. Like a carrot on a stick, tease, all of it. I would give that all back to you my friend. All of it, I no longer feel my heart flutter with your name, I feel my stomach tie and growl. I do not want your life in mine. Not this way, not at all, poor thing, old love. I might live less but my soul is ok. Its a new year, I will breathe until I can not and I will sing.

February cold, the wind that hits bones as if your skin wasn't there. I was ready. I thought about it over and over for two weeks. What would little abbigal think> or her older sisters Drew and Hannah> They would understand right? Love is not tangible, you can't see it, you can't hold it right?
    Thoughts on my way north on interstate 95. It never was about them in the end, and the end is almost here. I have my last 300$ in my pocket, although spent, I can still turn back.....I can turn around. Maybe talking one more time or a letter? She needed to know it was all or death, not nothing because I don't know what death is yet.

I bought it, just like that. Handed the money and was handed in return a piece of metal with wood grips and a box of shells. I can't turn back now, there is no turning back. ****, the kids though, "STOP THINKING ABOUT THAT," My head rang out in confusion and values. She must not have had any! I'm close now. The sign outside of her work is in the distance. Closer, don't back out. Closer! Yes can you send out Margo, I need to have a word.

A small cloud of smoke and a loud bang and she was bleeding out in the snow in the front of her work. It's time I thought and tuned it to my head. here goes nothi...............

Sammy had killed his ex girlfriend, didn't  leave the scene after he turned the gun on himself.

phone not needed, headrest stained. Blood only known from prior story. Dead weight in the covers, dead body once or twice removed. Its cheap and its south. I feel ok here now. I'll sleep. You hold the conversation my love.

James  Joyce sleeping in bed, next to me. He snores almost as a whisper. I don't bother to shake him. I can sleep and he has been through enough the eccentric that he may be. Write. All else is meaningless. That part is somewhat fiction though. We know that from our own depraved eccentric lows and bottoms. Sleep. You will make it right in the morning. It is dark, it is time my friend.

The last time you said that you screamed it, "******* parasites, always looking over my fence." although there was no one there. It stayed like that for a few weeks. It was obvious the wobblies had turned on you, no more safe place for a union supporter.
             The tracks that lead to out of town kept rearing through your skull as if an invite had been sent through some unknown path of communication. The maddness lasted, sometimes it was worse. One day in particular you pinned your curtains closed until there wasn't one speck of light to be seen inside. "They're coming, you wait, they are timing everything". On that night you ran the shower and shut the door. As steam arose into the room you swallowed twenty sleeping pills and placed a plastic bag over your head. Radio blearing in the backround either for comfort or to drown out any sounds of gasping or both! When they wheeled you out of the house your arm fell off the side of the stretcher as if you were saying goodbye. You would have been embarrassed at the thought of your cold white hand waving. You were angry and scared and had said goodbye years before. There was no need of one last. You left like you came, sadly and yet somehow smiling as if you might have known something no one else did. Maybe you did sweetheart, maybe you did.

Empty feelings enhanced by empty bottles by empty hands.
Lasting and longing the lasting warmth longing for again.
Crying your tears while crying your point since the town crier died.
Forgetting your heart while forgetting your first kiss, forget.
Moved on, not you but them, Moving in a new life, a new partner. Moving long passed where you have your memories stored that are fresh as the day, like the smell of holidays or your best friends house. Funny how you remember, you remember these things. Those memories are just memories. It's time to anew and start forwarding your own mind. There is nothing you could have done. There is nothing you could have done to keep these from just being memories.

It is the fault of a firefighter for putting your desires out. The blame of a cop for ruining the smile. The town itself for letting these figures in.

You were burning, happy and alone. The stereo played something in the back round that reminded you of a loss, a loss you must not recover from. The improbable odds of winning that war with mourning. Keep looking at the clock, it never stops.

You wrapped yourself in the blanket on the cold, damp cement floor and noticed the paint peeling off the walls seemed to morph if you stared long enough. It was jail, it was honest. It wasn't the lowest of places but it sure wasn't your desire.

These ******* broke you, only laughing at the shattering of hearts and swearing they were needed for your sake and mine. I guess its always been coming that way, down the line, down the lost direction so many pointed in.

I am now lost with out the chaos, without the dignity of knowing you or I, will be ok in the claws of the madness they call "order". You never needed anyone but yourself. You never needed. you never. You, burning and buried.