Wednesday, March 19, 2014

Notes by the window

my hands slowed with chill
I won't reach for the heater tho
I'll get sick maybe,
my fingers are numb,

rain is imperceptible in the night
stopped only by my window
a ledge,

water blurs the world
gives birth to it,

Yesterday I wished it would rain,
now I stare at it strangely,
I am seeing into myself,

this was not what I meant,
when I said it,
I am too conscious of my wish
too wrapped up in my own
petty thoughts, a fracture of
the essential mind, an aberration,

It will continue,
the night, storm, winter, spring
it will continue with me
or without me,
as me,
or because of me,

I am silent,

in the near lane heading north
a car turns left without signalling
there's no traffic,

what came before was a fantasy.

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