Total disclosure; winter was green. We dance in a way, we envy each other.
One remora, one crocodile, one dear ransom.
I went through a spell. It’s amazing how souls crush.
With all you have, I took it for granted.
We set demarcations on happiness: riches mean joy. And
partner is gray.
I was with coppice, looking at a frontier, remembering how it opened.
We’ll try, as they say; we’ll forfeit at a precise second.
It feels awkward; to have offended so much—while it meant wines, berries, apricots.
Haven’t flickered a candle in months: haven’t longed into feeling human in weeks. Parts croaked. To realize it means existentialism.
So rabid for it, so subdued by it; so estranged from it.
To sit and gather roots, to find something is wrong inside.
Most enjoy on a different level. If finding this is life, we have chimneys to clean.
Partial disclosure; summer was cold.
