#we share a brief moment of mood-bashing#
i chose the table at the furthest end of the empty canteen, by the window with my back to the christmas tree, the smell of night knocking clumsily against the window with the insistence of a six o'clock mind. she stirred her coffee while i impaled a strip of fried potato gently with a lazy fork. the wind whistled outside.
***
when we strip ourselves of our labels and masks, would we remain less than nothing beneath the debris, would we arrive at our personal zero kelvin?
***
drinking my coffee by the drops, we looked out the window into the absolute emptiness and admitted to our vulnerable lacrimal dam and ataxic stumble.
***
when we strip ourselves of our labels and masks, would we remain less than nothing beneath the debris, would we arrive at our personal zero kelvin?
***
drinking my coffee by the drops, we looked out the window into the absolute emptiness and admitted to our vulnerable lacrimal dam and ataxic stumble.