I hold secrets within my soul, my broken, battered, riddled soul. My chest is in a constant state of constriction, lost deep in the Amazon, awaiting rescue from my own self-harm. Swimming upstream is a tiring exercise, beating against my body with the rapidity of a torrential downpour in late summer. All I can search for in this darkness is the light of all lights to bring forth an honorable presence within my heart, one that can save me from myself. When I close my eyes I can picture it, that close salvation of the many, and all I can see out of the black is you. You are the hope I hold, the opportunity of excellence in my life, and yet you are nothing I can grasp. You flutter away like a scrap of paper from the novel of my life, torn out by your own hand, ever wandering in the opposite direction. I force my eyes closed just to envision you standing beside me one moment more, keeping in mind that the ecstasy from this love will dissipate once I return to the surface of the River Styx down which I float, down which we are all forced in the end.