I don't get headaches. At least I didn't used to. But the ache outside has worked it's way in. Through my eyes, through my ears, through my skin. And I can't figure out what to do. Oh, how trite. How completely trite. But inspite of the words I swear it's all true. Keeping track of nothing to do. Finding ways to see it through. Nothing is familiar that I see. And I don't see you. Blank and dull. Nothing seeing plain eyes. Eyes seeing plain eyes. Eyes seeing you. Keeping track of nothing to do. Finding ways to see it through. Nothing is familiar that I see. And I don't see you.