Peaceful days of languor grow short as
tattered scarecrows gaurd barren fields of...

We don't play games around here,
and in silence we drift apart...

Created in our own image,
ever vigilant...

It's such a clear obscurity,
a hazy cognizance...

The autumn breeze
blowing through my open window...

I.
Watch...

King of the hill laughing,
laughing I stare in sleepless trance...

In the utter silence
of my lost and solitary existence...

In the still calm before the storm,
gray air, not a leaf moving...

Ever have one of those days where
everything goes just perfectly? When...

And finally
we awoke, talking...

She used to make me coffee,
she used to make me meals...