The fever doesnt fit me and the headache takes my heart. Through the broken branches a warm wind takes scrapings of a moon. The pavement takes each print, tracing the skies, the pallid winter hexagon, the crushed ashtray hush of the horizon. I feel the needle more in its absence, I feel tomorrow more deeply having been betrayed by yesterday. I lied to the tracings, I lied to the tide. The clock collapses on the cusp of midnight, the day begins, pitch black and solitary. Nested in the needs of so many empty hours.
VIEW 3 of 3 COMMENTS
viking:
I hope you didn't have a car accident, you cryptic being. You're so good with words, YOU should write my set introductions! I liked the part about being a frozen as if an antidote for time. So. Thanks for leaving such a beautifully written comment on my set! x
viking:
Oh no man. That's so serious. I'm glad you're ok, you got out, you escaped. *bites lip*