There was a time when words danced upon my lips, eager to be released into the world, thoughts bloomed like strong rooted Buddleja from my concrete of a skull, longing to resonate with other blooms. Those days, however, are but mere echoes now, drifting and slipping off of memory. I have become a hollow shell, a vessel devoid of imagination or purpose, crawling upon this accursed journey that has been shoved down the throat. Where once passion surged within the depths of our being.