2 months six days.

I dont think there is much I could say, perhaps that I could provide everything you need, but I have said that all already, I have offered all that is within.
and I admit to you my pathological need, my addiction to sadness. but it has been two months and six days since I have cried and that is not a thing I find a blessing.
not at all.
is this fiction? could it be when so much of it is facts? all I know is so many have said so much and I am so aware of why nothing can move me any more, I am aware. but who ever said being aware of anything changes anything.
escape could be an option, but it is the worst of all.
fantasies are meant to be fantasies, the moment they become reality, they lose all vitality. so move away, get out of sight, become a mere thought that will further glorify you, hyperbole you`r every spec, make you an unreachable fantasy.
and finally, on snowy rainy days, in the over flow of coffee and ciggarits, in poetry volumes and bathtubs, you`l give me a reason to cry.