March 2012
February 2012
The day in and day out Of unchanging habits. Of rejected emotions. Of recycled energy. Of never being what we want.
But then there’s that. That thing. That person. That someone. That memory. That sound.
That, that which breaks the mold Which we hold so close. Because change is faulty. And the air of possibility Is stifled.
But our longings are wafting Away from the earth. And that...
