Between the quiet comfort of her airy exheunt of breath, mingling with the myrtle mystically smoldering in my censer, somewhere in the drift of smog from my chalice - my mind settled, briefly, to watch where we lie. In that place where nothing concerned the warmth and stillness flowing through my veins, there came a cold shiver upon my neck; slowly a hand draped its way across my chest. Soon I was consumed in the svelte flow of hips gliding to my stride; wherein I found myself thinking such must be love, for true. Solemn words couldn't match the witless minds working, weaving, wicked webs.

As soon as we had sewn throughout a thread of time again, and thoroughly scalded my flesh in that acid which seethes with yearning, mournful sin; a hand evoked my company to careful, precise whims - a notion with a pure exhaustion escaped the spry lips of my lover, beating the tired slogan with her shoe. I thought for myself 'this be the last' and kissed her then again. Such dark thoughts over came my senses then, born of malefic origin, which caught me by the vice of my own handle. Entirely too alluring it was, to think of one dead to me in soul - so lifeless there in flesh, but warm and cold to touch.

It was perhaps my moment then of clarity between such lines bleakness and insanity,
which by premise mope with weakness; vain principal obliges eventually to the same.

Gradually my thoughts did wind, slipping from the stream down to my black-papered cigarette; to stare upon the windowsill, and deny the demise of my relationship. A softness came upon me still to think of numbness and regret, when as soon as my heart becomes stone, I'll be invincible again.

My god I mock my God, I still don't understand the reasons why, my crippled mind must clench upon those simple words "to die" - retch upon the thought so vile as to live eternal, for nothing means so little more than becoming mentally brittle. Music came to me somewhere, as I found the solution to be so simple.

All must die and come to pass, for in the beginning lies the end - nothing can last that will not die and come to life again.

My thoughts did rattle, with a clink - the sweet elixir unflasked from its skin, she held out to me a tall, cold glass - with my whiskey, mixed strong in.

Only now, I see, the love she had for me - a patient, with my medicine; she gave me then my whiskey, since I've never seen her again.