forty.
like echoes reverberating down a long hallway of a high school that i was never went to. its foreignness washes over me, the unfamiliarity grates my spirit, but i walk on. i remember the hollow sound, the emptiness swallowing loneliness, and i keep walking. head up, heart forward, right foot, left foot. another and the darkness sleets diagonal, almost cutting, wondering what it will be like tomorrow because it was like this in the rye but i ignored it. it's a haze, purple hatred putrid heart and i follow blindly. the rope helps keep the way but the way i need it to be isn't how it is and it tangles steadfast, hidden fire, flower words, music filter filling the crack in the teacup until it floats with brown water. it's not supposed to all float away porcelain pieces is it inside, strong and bleeding, spilling out what i want to hear from the top of the edge to the forests with grims and fens so they may know you didn't kill the sun but left it shining to burn creases of feeling and long hallway echoes that reach no sound. it's been asleep to wake so turn off the music for yesterday.