(no subject)
i remember lying on the bed in the boxroom, the covers latticed into lace with burnholes, smoking, staring at the ceiling, staring through the skylight, a pane of indigo fading to teal and yellow, the leaves black silhouettes, the smoke spiralling dovegrey, drifting, dreaming, listening to the trains going past. floating on the seas beneath the ceilings, half-awake. the light faded and sad. the underwater twilight rush of the trains. the beautiful and imperfect stillness.