Remember the times we talked past midnight? Now it's just me and the black dog. You're in exile. I live in a wind tunnel that bends light and time. And the black dog sits in the corner and snarls.

I am afraid of his bite. So I keep running. Hoping he'll never catch me. But he's fast. God knows he's fast. And those memories of you which once gave me wings… now they just weigh me down. And it feels like I'm wading through mud.

But I remember. Oh God I remember.
The days when the thought of you gave me flight.

I would walk on my smile from day to day.
Those hours and weeks and months were all you.
(With the black dog at bay.)
And you. In, between and through.
It was just you.

But now it's all me,
and the curled lip of that lap dog that lives in the corner.