This going to bed time tires me. I think about you, And I sigh- for a lot of reasons. And I miss you with every aching nerve in my body and in my brain and in my eyes. I do. I cant help it, Im sorry. And this nighttime is so hard, because of the Blurry uncertainty of the fog behind my eyelids; it blinds me and deafens me, and when I take alonenessβ hand and face my Thoughts every night, The very object of my avoidance and deprecance and isolation, I quake and shiver like a cornered animal. Like a runaway who has finally been caught. Because I know this routine. Inside and outside and everyside, and I hate it, with every aching nerve in my body and in my brain and in my eyes. And I miss you. I do, I do, I do.