It is so very hard to sit here and
call out words, draw them to
the top and paint with them in
hues I no longer see.

... it grows dark for me ...

I have my own darkness, I do
not need yours as well. Yet,
there you are with tendrils of
the mind reaching out for me.

... it's better than nothing ...

Two minds locked in some
sadistic leech. I bleed and
so do you, in some invisible
shadow that culminates as
if in heated climactic sex.

Mind touching mind ...
... are we Vulcans?

There's an idea ...

... it's all I got left ...

When your mind reaches out
and caresses mine.

Cry your tears, I will dry them.
Shout your fears to the skies
and I'll embrace you without
question.

... yet ... in silence we do sit.

You drift upon waves I cannot
see, but I do feel ... intensely.

There are days I want to gag
your mind ... yet this is all I have.

Can you feel my tendrils still?