"Diseases desperate grown
But desperate appliance are reliev'd
Or not at all."
An excerpt (modified):
The knuckles of my hand are stiff.
I must drop the pencil occasionallyand rub them warm. Allthe bones of my body ache dully and it occurs to me that even the dread of death is a subjectively relative thing, welcomed as often as not by the poor and ailing while the rich and pleasured tremble at its mention.
The thought brings a smile to mu dry lips. But the simle fades as I once again face the vacant page with a resharpened pencil. The white-ruled paper is ragged at the top of the table testifying ti the ripped out pages of a dozen aborted things.
The problem is that there is no beginning - no REAL, TRUE BEGINNING. Not a concrete fixed point in time labeled with fixed dated events to proceed from - thus, I don't know how it would end.
So I must put it down as one narrates a dream, a picking up at a point whose only qualification is taht it is a clearly remembered moment, andd then relate from there.
A LOST MOMENT. Not a chance that it will ever come again.
The story is BUT a bream turned nightmare, so I will begin with a dream, that I can still remember... A dream that I can still feel... Only a dream, that is, FAR FROM REALITY. 
A face.
A young man's face. Good-looking and with a radiant smile, cast before the silhouette ambiance of a room. Bowing down to give me my "good morning" kiss on my forehead. Crow black, incongruously healthy, newly-cut hair matches the enormous glow of his eyes. Such a wonderful sight to behold in an earliest hour of the day!
The sweet curve of lips that formed in his parted mouth only to reveal that too-perfect teeth of dentures. A voice filtered through the wave of the air, ordering me to get up and start a new day with him.
Then, he said, "come with me!"
I still feel sleepy to rise but he insisted and again he said "take my hand".
I sat back up and reached my hand out to him and with a shudder, I saw my hand pass through his own.
The vision in my memory slowly fades away. The last thing I remembered is his saying "goodbye".
Goodbye?
For what?
What had happened? I could not fathom.
What has ended? I could not imagine.
Goodbye means the end, isn't it not? What is the ending? I don't know.
What had happened is the creation of my imagination.
AN ILLUSION OF LOVE! Traumatic, yet, I daresay - WORTH!!
But, alas! It wasn't real!
IT IS ALL A DREAM!!!:'(
