"All galaxies are indeed moving apart at an ever increasing rate"
It's the saddest thing I've ever heard
Don't they know it will be too late?
They'll burn up only to leave
The vacuum space between

Adaptive we say
Time and decay
But morals and friendships-
drugs and hugs and spark plugs,
Surely they're meant to remain?
Not fall like autumn's leaves or spring's rain and grow anew or cycle through...but stay?

If I could press a memory in this book I'd fill the pages
Instead these images press my brain
And my memory beckons and pleads
"Am I still able?"

Tell me so.
Do we start, what we always know will end?


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go.