tiny trapped inside stiff walls, wombs, prison and home all at once. it is may, it is spring, and they have been patient. struggling against it all, brilliant green folded into themselves now this is too much, too small a space for an anxious creature of the season. they've broken free and now they hang there looking very cold almost frozen and on the edge of throwing themselves open into warmth and sun and the things that should have been, were the universe at all prepared for their arrival. we are all a victim of time and days thrown down into a grid, as if the weather might peer at it in passing or at all.

as if the sun will notice the air is so cold for this time of year and glow a little stronger harder warmer. i have never been the one to wear a watch and lately i am sad to feel confined inside the twenty-four hour chaotic cycle of life around me. there is an empty dayplanner hidden in the papers scattered around the room and yes, i think, i'd like it to stay this way..

drifting casually through time (it is so relative) with my paper wings. tattered here and there and of course i fall, every now and then it rains and i am grounded. every now and then i find the earth and i watch the days end one after another. it is only this morose feeling left at the gorgeous sort of cruelty a sunset brings, how it slips away in a fury of colour. tracing my footsteps slowly in the dark clutching the small box full of endings.

inside of these cold stiff walls, i am still, folded into myself. waiting, this is all there seems to be when the sky is a somber, heavy gray.

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