(no subject)
Days and days pass.
Don't bother. That is what I've left for you, there on the table next to the unopened letter, with all the love in the world.
Life lies unattended, [when did this coma become who I am,] in cryptic consciousness and unsettled sleep, seconds floating like feathers from molting wings. Summer smell, rain smell, autumn smell. At least it brings some comfort.
There is no need to continue, for none of these words matter.
And so many things have been left unrecorded in recent times, anyway.
So many things.
All these fucking things.
Don't bother. That is what I've left for you, there on the table next to the unopened letter, with all the love in the world.
Life lies unattended, [when did this coma become who I am,] in cryptic consciousness and unsettled sleep, seconds floating like feathers from molting wings. Summer smell, rain smell, autumn smell. At least it brings some comfort.
There is no need to continue, for none of these words matter.
And so many things have been left unrecorded in recent times, anyway.
So many things.
All these fucking things.