it's a face i want to turn to me with all the warmth of the sun:
despite various ominous sightings,
of hunting birds, a swoop of vultures, a black cat staring
at me through my window,
my own doom all spelled out for me by candles;
despite all that i know that i'm willingly walking
in the direction that tugs constantly
at my limbs
of course i am
have i any choice?
a rhetorical question,
the answer is no.
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- I. I am not going crazy this morn...
- from somewhere this sadness rose in me like moss, ...
- i don't ever want to scratch the surface of the co...
- 1 train wreck I know myself to be a train wreck ...
- head full of snow
- asleep and dreaming
- it's a face i want to turn to me with all the warm...
- half my heart
- 'he's a rebel, and he'll never ever be any good.' ...
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