over the edge of loneliness. over loneliness stretched flat, a glass slate of sky. over loneliness waiting for clouds. or slants of sharp sunlight. or a black storm, to break apart this hard block of blue lit horizon. some nights im drowning in it, all this empty open air. but then i come up, come out. what a clever trick the blues can be. they can tint every wall in my house with hurt. and one yellow morning i’ll slip from under my sheets, cheeks crushed with sleep, and im clean.
it’s like you have a fever forever, and suddenly, you wake up, and one day you don’t.