A longing that permeates the mind, body, and soul, the want of possessions lost torture an already hurting person. Constant reminders in everything seen rub salt in the woulds. Home and happiness far enough away to not exist, simple survival becomes the only goal. As empty hours stack up intoxication from loneliness tears at a mind's sharpness. Minutes become days, hours months, days a time unfathomable. Times and distances become irrelevant and misunderstood by a grieving mind. Horrific images fill a dreamscape of what could be, might be. Out of touch, out of reality, a soul cries for a time now lost, memories fading to black and white, becoming less sharp with time, until they blur beyond comprehension, and begin to mix with the false reality the mind creates for the blank spaces. Photographs become a tenuous link to times barely remembered. Memories disappear as tears run down a saddened face, evaporating into the winds of time. Hands of the mind reach out, fingers outstretched, straining for one more chance at being there, wherever there is. But then where there is loses shape, and the longing is for something, but the mind can't remember what it wants, and is further saddened. Everything is nothing, and the mind loses its last something as it slides into darkness, leaving the body an empty shell, a car without a driver, careening through life.