these days I've been feeling as if my legs were rooted in place. like the hope a kid will show with just the look on his face. I might be tired but it's not that bad, after work I still have things on which I gently rest my back. like records no one know, and videogames like pillows, letters someone wrote me three october moons ago.

these days I've been feeling as if my arms were two anchors. they get to the bottom and get stucked in the ground. they can't hold the air you used to breathe in my face, softly. they can no longer reach for your thighs like empty gardens on amaltea. they can no longer sever the ties that we create for our own lives. but it's ok, and I know it's ok, and at least it's ok.