Infinitely winded
Smoldering coals of my infancy barely bring blisters to my feet. Starry void of an evening sky can hardly hold back as I am dissolved in its endlessness. Warmth is gone, and there is left our slow physical entropy. Too many grains have fallen with those that remain no castle worth erecting could be stricken. The veneer of humor peels and flakes. A fissure will betray the soft meaty center for history to lick up and grind away. I have no want to leave footprints in the sand, but wish to carve holes in those that pass by.