Frustration fills the air like a thick fog of poison gas when there's no wind from either direction.

Memories from the past and worries of the future fill the air with the ungodly stench of impending failure.

Thunderstorms and cold weather overtake hell's current location at the most inconvenient time possible.

Distractions run rampant and are willingly followed in a desperate attempt to forget and escape.

A soul-mate's arms bring sweet relief.

Tomorrow looks like tears.