It's getting to be that time of year again.
And the air is thick with an unwanted promise. The same one as always.
The days are full of unrelenting memories. Counting down to empty birthdays and morbid anniversaries. How ironic spring has become, while everything around me is reborn, bursting full of life, it signifies nothing but an inevitable decay. It's even greater now.
I can feel you decomposing.
and it's these months that I can't fill my mind with abstractions, and honesty is as brutal as the penetration of mid-afternoon sunlight.
It might get harder to hide it. It doesn't matter.
Je ne suis rien.
The days are full of unrelenting memories. Counting down to empty birthdays and morbid anniversaries. How ironic spring has become, while everything around me is reborn, bursting full of life, it signifies nothing but an inevitable decay. It's even greater now.
I can feel you decomposing.
and it's these months that I can't fill my mind with abstractions, and honesty is as brutal as the penetration of mid-afternoon sunlight.
It might get harder to hide it. It doesn't matter.
Je ne suis rien.