how eager we are to forget where we came from, as though we weren't dirt beneath God's meticulous manicure mere fractional eternities ago. you stopped talking to me just days ago, but it feels like epochs; time dilates in strange manners, it truly is alien. there are civilizations that simply do not measure time; things happen when they happen, and that is that. foreign concepts and foreign languages slipping across the tip of my tongue, while foreign tongues work their way into your every orifice. I'm laying in bed, last night was a bust, I drank a little bit of whiskey but not enough, it rained but only briefly, and I did not have fun but I cannot complain; at least I don't need you anymore.