Swallow Your Pain

We all must go on, go on

Go on b'y! Go on go on

We all must go on, go on

For you won't live again

I do my best mourning in the evening. 

This is probably because it takes me several hours to actually wake up. 

I'm at the rummaging stage now, filtering through all of the junk I own for any scrap or morsel of her. 

I toss aside old ping pong paddles and Playstation consoles and hiss to myself, "This can't be it! Where's the rest of it?!"

Sort of like someone on the fiend for drugs, or someone who can't find their brilliant recipe for guacamole. 

All pieces of paper and scraps of our past that I come across I want to ingest. 

Like, I keep experiencing an urge to swallow this note or that card from her. 

I have to stop myself from doing it. 

I suppose I figure that if I swallow these figments, I can't ever possibly misplace them. 

She'd also probably get a kick out of it. 

"He's not going to try and swallow the whole picture frame, is he?"