Shivering.
As middle of winter
drudges through
snow and ice.
The sound in my mind
gets bigger.
The sound from my body
screams louder.
The sound you were making
doesn't reach me anymore.
We wrap ourselves
around a million
things because we
should.
Confusing expectation
with desire,
can we ever
see the sun?
Anxiety ensues.
You walk
so slowly in the middle
of the bustle, eyes cast
down. What takes you
from the action and activity
of life?
We burn
so hard for things
we never loved.
I burn for things so
inevitable. Things
written thousands
upon thousands of
years ago.
What was intentionally
written in
the book?
We burn on;
the full time
job, we each must
pay our due.
http://newcastlemale.deviantart.com/art/smoke-Trails-3-92834150
