III.Shockingly stagnant, as a solemn lakeside of regret, you appear as no other. Proud and unfazed, you stare onwards, through me, to me, to us and what we used to be. Our souls, once intertwined, seem as though to reach out through the spectral interface, as if to once again embrace on the levels which we can never truly know. Eyes, seemingly as both harsh and unyielding, pool with tears, or maybe ether, or maybe nothingness embodied into a brief figment of my sleep-deprived psyche. The distance between has been breached by the translucent passion displayed on our cheeks.I.II.
The shadows fade into distant darks and grays, tickling the hillside with fanciful apparitions, while grim-toothed shades salivate as the sun sneaks underneath the horizon. I close my eyes and hope to forget, or maybe to remember that which can never be duplicated by all of understanding. Memories have no power, until they become reality through dreams, brought on by desperate and unrelinquished sleep, where ghastly foes will transcend into consciousness for their oath: for their revenge, for their nefarious needs. In this shadowscape, as ill-willed acquaintances and memories not quite remembered flitter in and out of existence-as-known-to-me, I see you.On the court of life, shots have to be fired, and shots have to be taken. Love is not something to be fought over, it’s for making. Two lovers, two souls, beyond physicality, beyond understanding, transmogrifying into a spiritual concept, a religion of two. Go for the dunk, fade for the three pointer, juke left, pivot right, buzzer shot, relief.Shaq, you’ve changed me.