Wind kinda making that familiar sound outside, stick a hand out the window left ajar.

Kinda feeling what it means to think when to think how to think the things you have to when to and how to.

A draft is picking up right aruond now and the smell of the lake at the valley bottom can be felt in my bones

I ache still, but I’ve learned to pay no mind to it

steady dripping sound reverborates through those same bones and the two meet in conflict,

wasted times are all I have to offer, laid at your feet in feeble meager offering,

take it is all I can beg

i’ve no weapons to supply myself with except that of being underestimated,

which in and of itself means eternity

felt cloth rubs against my shoulders as I walked down the path, pebbles still dig into my soles in a familiar manner,

I smell the algae from miles away. Lights reflecting off of my abnormally crescent skin and I rip at the hair sproutin around us.

When burned it leaves the most pungent of smells, eyes water from that time I began to the time you ended, and I look kinda weary.

Wasted times are all I got to offer you and myself, burned them up alogn with the rest and the smell was unmistakebly your’s.

the beast I left so much of myself with and continued to give myself to.

Releasing myself in whichever ways I knew how and those which I didn’t understand, as I gained momentum,

Threw myself full force downward towards water’s edge, could smell the algae from a mile away.

Haze laid upon my eyes, glassy eyed water cried, bent toes met with your bent knees,

Picked myself up off the path, pebbles left marks in my knees,

bits of myself.

-Js