The stench spread misery amongst the passers by. The wind no longer held its vibrant chill beneath the deep tunnels underground, it dissipated along with all the others' dignity. There was no indication of oppression within the transport, neither was there any sort of opposition, just another of those irrelevant and torturous mid-autumn angst. A man bellowed as he sat down with a newspaper in hand. He had no idea along with hundreds more inside with them. It was just one of those days.
Dark, darker, darkest, there is no difference. All hurts the same. Pain, everlasting, lingering. Pain, day and night. The hours are uncertain. Anything can happen now. Thinking about it hurts. Truth is unreliable. The romance is dead. My heart, it is lost. Unrecoverable, hateful, distrusting. Wishful, perhaps, but I have lost everything before and survived still. This one was special. So special. Embittered, the tip of my tongue tastes. The flavour of my life. Cuisine of kitchens unwanted. It burns, to the heart. I do not understand. I do not understand.