Pain
It’s a lot more painful than it looks.
Waning gibbous.
A cool spring – can you really call this spring? Festive lights shift in a light waltz in synchrony. Am I hallucinating, or are people at peace and asleep?
Burning and bubble, turn and toil, there is nothing you can’t see when it’s the brain worth rubble. It’s in your dream, you poor sap.