Driving me away is easier than saying goodbye- kissing the air, the last syllable of truth being always two lips compressed around emptiness- the emptiness you dread yet return to as just punishment, just reward. Who loved you so relentlessly? Who lost you in that howling void between infancy and d**h? It is punctuated by the warm bodies of women, who hold you for a while then run down that echoing corridor doing as they are told.