1-2

I wish that I could stay here in this bewitching hour. I want to be able to stare at my ceiling and just sit by myself. I want to sit still and just be, without having to be consumed by the feeling that time is moving moving moving. Can't time just take a day off? Even an hour? Doesn't it ever get exhausted? I sure as hell do. Or is it that time has no ceiling to stare at?

10 minutes plus

a careless gaze falling on shimmering tile lets my mind wander and do what it does when i stop paying attention. the red looks some sort of imaginative beauty, stricken by the overshadowing power of that white slump, slippery with water. blood has dripped from my mouth. from my gums. 

let this gaze be broken, let me snap back into reality and breathe again. let me wash this imaginative sequence down the sink, accompanied by the toothpaste.

i wonder how i'm going to break it to him.

i wonder if he'll be angry.

i hope he won't be angry.

i hope he'll be himself and shrug it off with a smile and careless laugh.

i wonder, i hope

does my wondrous hope mean anything anymore?

i wonder...

selfless, cold, and composed.

this energetic heart is never final. never simple. never done. I'm longing for the end of November, only to see what it has in store.