electric feel.

this drive gets lonely.

they poured gasoline all across the sky.

it rained so much this year.

it’s just water under the bridge.

rocks and grass and weeds.

same bed, different dreams.

in the bathroom stalls, on the washroom walls, you can finally open up.

It was one of those March days when the sun shines hot and the wind blows cold: when it is summer in the light, and winter in the shade.
Charles Dickens

this is a place where we can rest our bones.