Stop...Stop..Stop..Stop..

The darkening of the city line..the completing of life's distractions..surrounds me in my grief.. I have to

stop thinking of someone..stop asking him for advice..stop ..stop..stop..stop..stop...

The perceived length of releasing him..not only him..the idea of how my life would improve with him
in it..hits me with anxiety like a blunt object..

I am choosing to believe that sobbing until limp with exhaustion..will generate the thin layer..that will be the start of the fermenting of the thick layer..

The thick layer of skin..when you forget you have to actively train yourself to stop thinking of him