That old familiar feeling.
Flooding back, in tunes you never knew could exist in the space it took for a breath to begin and a sigh to end.

Lightning arcs across your brain, the scars lighting up, rearranging themselves in ****** gold runes.

It's a happy noise.
It's a good noise.

The background rises and falls, in perfect harmonic distortion.

Can you blame me if I need your fingers tracing down my spine again?

I've gone too long, fallen too hard to make sense where I end and you begin.

I pay more attention nowadays to the air escaping my teeth between each word I speak,


To the soft crackling, in the dark.

Uncertainties cloud judgment
Eccentricities pierce better reasoning
By the time the colours fall

You will know why the thin line holds us so.

Both liberating and excruciating. The candle wick burns down til it's nothing ; it proceeds to extinguish itself.

Such is the natural order of things : the only constant is time.

what we feel for the time passed
how we think for the lives past
we loved. and that's all we can do.


This fresh coat of paint is cracking up faster than how I thought it would be.