Exotic matter

Now that there is no longer someone by my side, cyclically, to protect me from time, it is only a matter of.. My mind appears to be years into the current well, the pit of memories deepening by the hour. Without a town cryer I am without reference, for love is the strongest clock by which souls are set by any stretch of possibility. I am doomed, for these are ky amber years. The sadness has begun, but this machine was built for a final run. This mind of mine is a roadster, a chopper of soul. I knew which highway I'd run, I built the machine, and now it is time to roll the ol' girl off the gravel.