I am happy. But somewhere far off but not so far to go unfelt, something is hollow. Something is dying slowly and I can't stop it.  Something it roting away from the inside out. This thing, I can not see it, though I have tried. It lingers in my blind spot and radiates terror, pain, anguish, and strangely youth. This dying thing radiates youth. A forgotten piece of yesterday's news, gasconading all around about it's lesser years and smoother skin, it's joyous dreams that I can no longer share.