you take up space like dark matter

hovering over my head in a foreboding manner...

I go through the motions

amicable enough

but it's as though I detach more and more

Not completely sure

What exactly it is that I am longing for...

Maybe elation from incredible stagnation

Or possible regression to my deleterious past

Maybe I'm just insane

It seems I always comeback to that conclusion...

I picture you in my passenger seat 

Having some irrelevant conversation

and I actually talk to myself...

I put you through my browser

Desperate to make contact

I'm sorry, I'd say 

After three years I am sorry

but your gone

leaving an imaginary beat under my floor boards

the dust has settled

its blown away

deteriated in the oblivion of time

but this cloud above my head remains...