Sunday, January 8, 2012


It is a crisis of self and I wake up paranoid. An early morning in only the second day of rain yet I contemplate the necessity of an ark. Part of me argues it can't be that bad but the imprint of the last downpour taught me you can never tell.

Stay here, the world whispers. Explore this is the new black.

Cold coffee is warmed and prayerful music played. A single flame and one square frame light the room but the heaviness of a deep silence darkens it. These are the moments when I am so  so   so very grateful to be alone.

Life's too short, I reply.

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