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| *art: lawrence alma-tadema |
| today i drown
that famous mission-status check, you know the one that goes, "if you are still breathing then you haven't finished yet" circling like a broken promise, echoed words fall cold upon harsh winter underworld and i cry to cold, "you call this breathing?" fallen leaves again fill up my yard and I think that maybe i should sweep them up but i know that i will not, since i am one of them, curled up inside a world of empty, trapped in brittle form i feel too much, passion carving pain in broken veins, aching breath a cruel cut-throat ghost of bliss that fell apart when your heart-beat burst. |