Text: "Every matter has its anti-matter. My urge to know you has become the impetus not to. My thoughts of you run wild, but never catch sight of that train of time. This track they run beside separates reality and imagination, so easy to cross but never did. Felt like a time traveler going back in time to stop himself from time traveling, the loop exhausted me. What would I have said to you? That your every movement destroys the air I breathe, or that it rips open parallel universes, my eyes catching the end of your every act, like a dance. The principle of design in every mundane object is structured in human scale and proportion, and all of a sudden, every space in-between seems to have more meaning than it should, impractical and irrational. My distance from you tells me how much more I want to touch you. Every angle you tilt your head rests a different path of thoughts, but the chair you rest your feet on is where my thoughts are. If every jail sentence has a term, I have not been properly convicted. I miss you. But let there be a day when I remember... you have been forgotten."
