I remember the last time I saw you I’d been tossing pennies into a well that resembled your mouth. I couldn’t tell you what was said, except that it was a lie. That’s what we were back then, “This is what we do to survive.” That was before the murders that brought us back to earth,  before we lit the signal fires along the dark horizon between us.

I’m always wandering off, absentminded of the threads I pull myself through these days on. I’m not lost, I’m not actually sure where I am right now but I know I am Moving Forward. I have a path and that seems important; in some distant corner of my mind I accept that these boundaries are the only thing that can save me. This is The Work and we know that’s what matters, just can’t always keep track of where I end and autopilot begins.

I keep forgetting to look for you, you know. Seem to have misplaced that, too, somewhere in the hazy grays that ate the edges of my impulses. I do a respectable job flexing my fists until one of those spikes hit, and then I’m bent back and swallowed whole- but through the thinning fog we see progress. There is ground between then and now, and one day I won’t look for you at all.