Lets call it a day.
I can't follow.
You blind me.
You twist and make shapes I don't recognize.
What is time, and space, when you are with me?
It does not exist.
And with you in another place there is too much of it.

There is too much time, and too much s p a c e.
Although I have removed you before, I have to put you back each time and look at you, like the book you can't touch, but your mother kept on the shelf within your reach anyway.
And it is just time and space.
I sit there and I look at it.
There must be a day that will come when it will break and shatter loudly around me.
And it could only be sweet relief.