Drained, what’s left inside but emptiness. Frustration filling me as you once did and here I sit in silence. Pondering anger, no, blindness, the blindness I have when it comes to you. Perhaps its endless hope or perhaps nothing at all and I’m lost in this ocean of delusions to see what’s there.

Where are we? All I see is darkness, a void. My muse is dead, or perhaps I am the one who is dead and my muse is dancing a dance of freedom upon my grave, singing one final song before she goes off into the mountains to live out the rest of her days. Perhaps she will find another to inspire.

Am I here? I feel the tugging that was once a light pulling me back into myself. Are you real or is this another dream — nightmare — disaster waiting to encroach upon my joy. Trust is lacking like oxygen in outer space; non-existent in my world.

I watched her die — curling into a ball of depression; the warrior came and took her life then stood upon her corpse in victory. She was nothing but corporeal weakness and needed to be taken out. The barrier walls were placed at once, fortifying the core of goodness that remained. Will she come to live once more at some point in the future?

Trembling with fear or anger or a combination of the two, over wrought with emotions crashing down upon me like tsunami waves. They take me out destroying all within its way. Buildings crumble to dust, bodies floating away like twigs…