i wake up in the morning with remnants of dreams and the foreign feelings they deposit like a river leaving rock fragments worn away in my banks
the freshness of awakening recalls the warm and hopeful breath of spring, but i want to suffer through the cold, without which i cannot offer you a reprieve
the steady, calculated soul of indifference frightens me, and it frightens me more to know that it lingers in your heart
perhaps i will be able to soften it, perhaps not
i hate the wind and the yellow flickering light and i wish the air would just stand still
