I take my morning walk.
Through tunnels of bleached trees. Over the remains of names long forgotten by those who promised never to forget them.
I close my eyes.
To check on the multi car pile up of words in the back of my mind. A twisted burning wreckage of things left unsaid, things I’d like to say, and things I wish I didn’t know.
It’s been going on for so long the death toll of ideas is immeasurable.
There’s nothing to do now but listen to their screams.