1. It hurts, this involuntary excess of everything that cannot be contained within all that isn't enough, of you, for them.
2. An ache, born of a helplessness that seems bigger than life itself, tugs on your hesitant feet, and you willingly drown everyday, under everything that your perpetually evolving sense of self-preservation forbids you from vocalising.
3. An all-consuming rage for things you know, but don't understand, taunts you like an arsonist's psalm, and you set fire to your home on a daily basis; falling in love with the tangerine walls; striving to fall for the unpalpable in the absence.
4. Your ghosts tell you that you will always be wrong for everything right in this world, but you long stopped looking for abandoned warehouses on the Moon, in the hope of abandoning all that is in excess of the 'wholesome'.