I listened to dearly beloved in the dark last night
And cried like a fuckin baby. The catharsis is still here but I feel like there’s something missing in my life
I’m to the point now where I cuddle a pillow every night. I imagine it’s someone who is nice to me, that trusts me, and wants the best for me. When I have troubling dreams she whispers me back to sleep. When the weight of the world is too much she cries with me. I hold her close and lay still to try to feel her heart beating. She’s a pillow and I am very much alone.
Life is a conceit
Life floats along icebergs upriver where the water is the coldest; static, mid-air with the breeze wrapping around it. Entropy gathering quickly at the height of the system, only to be turned on it’s head when the sun burns down. Dispersed again and glancing off the rocky escarpment, life never falters to climb back above the icy water and whistling breeze. Someday the sun will be pleasant and the life will rise high enough to disappear.