My nose and mouth feel full of metal and I keep sleeping.
The saga continues even as I change position each time my chest rises -I am trying to gain new perspective, learn more with every intake, every stumble, every moment that passes me by.
Death seems all around me - inviting me with headaches and tears as a platform to look from, Inviting-as a humble resting place.
The fallen flesh beneath the earth, scattered in the sky, the stones resting in yards - It is as if these stones lie on the chests of those of us left behind.
And somberly he has told me the story at least a dozen times, different with each memory, his friend dead too early by suicide. He words fall as tears should leaving him guilty with life.