On the Edge There is no time for pain I do not feel. There's too much time for wounds that do not heal. There is time enough for words I do not heed. There's time enough for wounds that do not bleed. Of all the joys my spirit can't attain, you're the one that proves the point of pain. I joke sometimes with the monkey on my back of the void inside and the feelings that I lack. He leaps and laughs and capers as he drives me to the brink where me, myself and I are strangers with no link. As I stumbled on the edge of the abyss, You stretched your hand to save me, but we missed. As I tumble headlong toward the rocks below, of a billion thoughts, the last I'll ever know: The vastest distance in all space and time was the synapse between your fingertips and mine.