I just want to shut my ******* phone off and run away
to the farthest location I could dream up and feasibly travel to
maybe Canada
I heard Toronto is nice
from former friends and lovers
although, I know my seasonal affect would never forgive me for that.
But what a serendipitous chance to feel nothing -
wrapped in the numb, stagnant northern air,
the only escape from a perpetual hanging on by a fragile thread.

Wandering through the streets
partially sober and grasping at the fabric tethered to my jacket
which has just begun fraying slightly,
snipped, but not severed quite yet
clasping its fingers around that of her fraternal twin,
lacing knuckles -
gestures reserved for lovers and family
and held together by the promises we never keep.

Spinning out like Fibonacci
an equidistant and calculated spiral
but then it finally breaks
and the tension is relieved.