You know what it's like, it's a breathing grief, a waxen mortuary and crestfallen church window. It should be ME, always ME, and it's never me. There's a blank sadness, unopened arms, it'll be there for a million years, the crunch of snow under your boot, the autumn breeze and summer sunshine fracturing through the stupid, fucking trees, it's death, dead trees, hollow bark, an emptiness and the "loneliness" that shrouds you and kills you slowly, kills everything, kills the light and flowers, the animals and all the things you like, it's death, bereavement, your perfect quiet in the field before sunrise, being empty before you sleep.