Never mind the warmth of the sun. Never mind the threadbare sheets and the tangled dreams. Night fell. All the stars came out. All the birds folded their wings away, leaving flight to other heights. Nothing was gained in that thin remainder. Nothing was left to hold my place.
There were words scratched into memory. There were letters left folded and unread. Places marked in books never shelved. Names inscribed and never read. These hours that idle and spill. These swarms that flood the skies and brush. This skin marked, again and again.
I found my feet hard to find. Stumbling to them as I lost my way. Staggering under the press of flesh and the ache of lingering on. The path of the fool, the path of disaster. These stitches missed in counting, these seams hidden between meanings. The night falls and the world eludes me. I limp along, lost to the mystery that compels.
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