(no subject)
though we may have once loved the sensation of one another's touch, tattered fabric now covers our hands. and despite its valiant attempts, these fingers still ache. we drink whiskey to keep warm though it only leaves us drunk and we burn wood to thaw our faces but it just reminds us of home. winter has, once again, gotten the best of us whether or not we would like to admit defeat. the winds have come swiftly and violently, cutting through our fragile skin and our will to fight. we were so courageous in august, but maybe now we are just too weak to withstand the relentless beatings that december has brought. so stay inside until april, because it's only heavy coats and heavy hearts until then. -joey gaylor