The one that turns the entire world into an insipid rabbit stew.

When mornings taste like sandpaper dust and evenings crumble into the day's debris.

You wonder why it has gone missing and how much of you it's absence is sucking away into a black hole.

You walk through roads and cities and people without taste or texture.

The skies are open but no longer inviting and the seas no longer stretch out to line your primeval soul.

Dreams lay open and bare, unused and uninspiring, static and dry to the bone.

Music no longer tastes the same. Inside your brain, inside your veins, inside your stone-cold stomach, it no longer churns your entire being.

The baby you longed to hold no longer beckons. Instead, the cracks on the soles of your feet now hurt more than the feeling of emptiness.

You want to lie naked on the sands with the cold water biting your toes and your nipples with equal intensity.

You want to scream into the dark night and ask why it snatched her away from you. Away from life, away from love, away from being awake.

You want to break the tables that once bore the fruits of your love-laced labour and strangle the thoughts that threaten to sprout a sweetness you have begun to hate.

How do you continue walking down a road that's paved with remnants of what could have been tomorrow?

Time and space no longer align for you and in your dreams, there are doors inside doors inside doors that never open.

You know that there is only one thing that will keep you on keel and set the ball rolling.

It's the only thing you seek with as much life as the shrill cries of a newborn.

It's the one thing that fits inside you like a well-crafted key.

The only thing that will be left when they strip you to the bone and burn you to the ground.
And it's the one thing you can never take.