Sad songs remind me of too much. Of straining caring for someone unraveling. Of people gone. Of friends facing their own slow erosion. Of feeling helpless against such ruinous tides. So I go outside. A porcupine lies face down next to the shed in the short grass, breathing slow and shallow in the heavy heavy heat. Headed nowhere but the end. A cloud of a thousand flies moves in stochastic patterns. I do not know how to ease its suffering. How to deter the greedy flies hellbent on rushing the timeline.
Heavy Heat
Heavy Heat
Heavy Heat
Sad songs remind me of too much. Of straining caring for someone unraveling. Of people gone. Of friends facing their own slow erosion. Of feeling helpless against such ruinous tides. So I go outside. A porcupine lies face down next to the shed in the short grass, breathing slow and shallow in the heavy heavy heat. Headed nowhere but the end. A cloud of a thousand flies moves in stochastic patterns. I do not know how to ease its suffering. How to deter the greedy flies hellbent on rushing the timeline.