Necronomicon: They're Just Burning Memories & Notes From A Certain Scotsman

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I saw differently when I looked with your eyes. I walked differently when I walked with your body. I wanted to show you beautiful things. Before brutality, sadness, despair, filth, pain, beautiful things that were only for you, beautiful things above all. But it didn’t come off as I intended. Again and again I peered into your eyes, as though searching for form in a deep, black mirror.

If only we’d been living in a city back then, I heard myself say several times during this. If only an ambulance could have taken you to the hospital. If only they’d put you in an ICU.

If only you hadn’t stopped breathing. And had therefore been granted all this life in my stead, I who would then never have been reborn. If it had been granted to you to go firmly forward, with your own eyes and your own body, your back to that dark mirror.

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