all the calcified arhythmitists were doing the math

i'm not good at this

you're fucking me up

There is no easy way to say this,

but could coming back ever be so simple?

I've stared at myself for what seems like a life time

of my moments; trying to piece the bits together:

his eyes, and my old door.

I left for a while. I'll have to explain later.

Tybalt might not come back.