Each day is worse than the last.
Sodden silence stacking mortar upon my back.
Dying, just a little bit faster everyday.
Just like you.
You won't be here much longer....
nor will I.
Maybe, a year or two, at this pace.
Then, you will be gone.
And I won't be far behind.
I can't save you,
you can't save me,
and we can't save ourselves.
Everything is silent miserable death.
Birds chirp in the darkness,
anathema to my ears.
You like warmth and sun.
I like the cold and night.
We don't talk. We don't.... do anything anymore.
So, what should we do?
Nothing. Just like always.
