The Dark-side Of Our Moon
What does it mean to know you? A common religion, a common tongue? Today I fear the grip of culture almost as much as I crave it.
What does it take to be near you? What could I give that wouldn’t leave us undone? There are no more crimes to commit that bridge our respective space and time. Maybe you’ve spent your term in prison, but give me a few more hours to complete mine.
Words and feelings travel at the speed of light, but our days remain elusive. What’s one week to three months in the dark? Do these portholes let in enough sunshine?
I can’t know you. I can’t give you up. You were too beautiful to talk to, it’s horrendous to let you be. I’ll go pretty far, but not far enough. It’s all a waste of time when I can’t whittle these seven hours away.