My Last Gasp Pseudo Intellectual Aspiration. Mostly irreverent, and sometimes irrelevant. Saturday, August 17, 2013. He wrote a poem for her. On a yellow, sepia toned page. With the quill of longing,. Dipped, in an ink-pot. As she set sail, forever, into oblivion. Leaving a trail of his words. Sunday, June 2, 2013. Has rendered me into a shapeless mass of muted despair. Now that makes me wonder if at all you yourself believed in what you said.