playing the waiting game. what's the point of having an appointment if i still have to wait this long?

what if every bottle was a potion?

it's warm and blue today. the store is empty and the radio is blasting. being able to pause and breathe is amazing.

the neighborhood is quiet and picturesque. you can see the secrets under all the potted plants and christmas wreaths.

i woke up with a fist around my heart. my ribcage aches. sleeping is falling

i want to write about wolves. i want to write about flesh ripping from bone and screaming your wonder to the moon.

maybe the idea of heaven is different, past midnight, when the light of your computer screen is a pearly gate.