007. Deaf
He never listens, he must be deaf. All these times I've begged for him to listen and he never does.
You'd think that for going through death so many times you'd end up listening to the person that usually ends up right.
I suppose when he listened it was too late.
He doesn't know, that I still live.
Back home, where we grew up together, I can hear the death around me; death of our planet and our memories. That stream where we used to play isn't blue anymore. It never was after that day was it?
Why did he never listen? Everything could've been so much better for the both of us if he had.
I told him the truth, what I wanted and he nearly listened that time.
I poured out everything to break that deafening wall between us. I tried, now he's dead.
I bet he thinks I'm dead. I may as well be.
I don't know . . . what is going on in my head half the time now. Sometimes the drums have gone, and I feel a little like my old self again.
Other times they're there pounding away in my skull, I don't know if it's the ghost of the echoes or not.
I remember sometimes he used to tap out a rhythm when we were younger. Other times I find him crying, curled up, clutching his head.
"Go away" he used to say "It's only a headache".
He always tried to look like he was coping.
Now I'm not sure how long I can cope. I know he's going to destroy all this very soon.
I think if I were in a more collected state I could probably think up of a way to break the time-lock.
I can't think in this decaying body, I'd have to . . .
Regeneration is a terrifying thing. My last regeneration was when we met.
We'll probably meet again but what will happen?
Will we start again or go fall back to our old paths?
"Opposites Attract" and all that . . .
You'd think that for going through death so many times you'd end up listening to the person that usually ends up right.
I suppose when he listened it was too late.
He doesn't know, that I still live.
Back home, where we grew up together, I can hear the death around me; death of our planet and our memories. That stream where we used to play isn't blue anymore. It never was after that day was it?
Why did he never listen? Everything could've been so much better for the both of us if he had.
I told him the truth, what I wanted and he nearly listened that time.
I poured out everything to break that deafening wall between us. I tried, now he's dead.
I bet he thinks I'm dead. I may as well be.
I don't know . . . what is going on in my head half the time now. Sometimes the drums have gone, and I feel a little like my old self again.
Other times they're there pounding away in my skull, I don't know if it's the ghost of the echoes or not.
I remember sometimes he used to tap out a rhythm when we were younger. Other times I find him crying, curled up, clutching his head.
"Go away" he used to say "It's only a headache".
He always tried to look like he was coping.
Now I'm not sure how long I can cope. I know he's going to destroy all this very soon.
I think if I were in a more collected state I could probably think up of a way to break the time-lock.
I can't think in this decaying body, I'd have to . . .
Regeneration is a terrifying thing. My last regeneration was when we met.
We'll probably meet again but what will happen?
Will we start again or go fall back to our old paths?
"Opposites Attract" and all that . . .