Today was warm, I felt a little bit livelier.
Challenges never cease to erupt from the cracks in the sidewalk like brazen dandelions, the sun a relief after unyielding darkness.
I see a lot of roadblocks, they make me anxious.
The taste of defeat is not foreign, but the saccharine glow of success washes the horizon; set ablaze with ambition.
I want to be better, almost perhaps somebody else.
Today was warm, I felt a little bit happier.

The I.V. undulates momentarily with life before settling back into motionlessness, liquid still passing through smoothly, coolness flooding the vein.

Is that chill ever deep enough? The one I left with the last time my leg grazed the metal rests of a hospital bed.

Pain is limitless when the mind never rests, crisp white linen tucked thoughtfully around the outline of your sullen frame. Is it you? Or is it them? Who do you blame for the ache?

I remember years ago in a state like this, that I had wondered almost the same. However, back then I would've said, "surely it is you if I feel the sorrow." Now I think I may be to blame. I cradle my emotions like a colicky babe.

Once again a fool to a game that ceases to end, running in circles only to bite my own tail. The monitor hums.

Eyes grow heavy from the weight of obsession, mind on overload, sifting through piles of useless information and intense thought.

Wake up tomorrow to run another race, maybe we'll meet again one day. I'll see you at the finish line.

Your fingertips cascade softly like silk against my skin, and your breath is warm; invading the nape of my neck with muffled desire.
I cannot forget the way you smell, and the texture of your deep golden hair.
Brassy locks resting against my palm.
Those deep blue pools I submerge myself in never fail to swallow me whole.
I can only touch you in dreams, hold you in dreams.