I am building a time machine, out of gristle, bone & sweat, bleeding, stacking memory, upon loss, no forgiveness for wanting more, faintly & filthily inhabited by a memory passing through like an evaporating cloud, malcontented. Settled is removed from the experience, nostalgia is given an indefinite pause, regret I warrant a gentle laugh; it never had the possiblity of being this, right, right now. Open rebellion, violent reprisal, this state of affairs, is at an end.  

I am here to murder your notion of a loss. You lost, nothing.