heartache, heartbreak, the rending of time and space, the proverbial hole in the heart, the gravity well of emotional well being, how light seems to pull in, a room darkens upon entering, the music dims, hushed voices, things move more slowly, and it just happens. the odd way time moves, slowly, quickly, in spurts, in jumps, without memory, with too much thought, the abstract destruction of reality, of jumbling of words, where cause and effect dance around absurdity, and the drink provides solace to the drunk, and yet this space, this thing, strength is drawn forth, an unmovable object, a base, a starting point, the low, the rock, the island. a strength, a source of energy, a driving force, except there is no movement away, a carrot on a stick, sisyphean, an engine pushing yet too big to move, the starting blocks chained to the sprinter. a sick joke.