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I glance at the lemon tree and it glances back at me, whispering sour thoughts into my ear and it is traipsing about my room, waiting for my infinite hopes that are so unsettled and I cannot contest to what is reality and what my eyes can only perceive in madness. The green grass grows with a purpose, the light above shines with unity and predictability, my thoughts swirl until I cannot read the words on the page and my disconcertion grows and I am not usually like this, touch my hands, avoid conversation, make me breakfast, hold on tightly to what you need so that nothing can get in your way.

  1. vintagesky posted this