[there is no point in writing unless you enjoy language; the feeling, thoughts and worlds that language can create.]
I sat in my fading youth staring through smoke out the window. A moth beat itself on the glass. The night was out there and the darkness was in me. The past was smoke and the future still not here.
I sat in my fading youth staring through smoke out the window. A moth beat itself on the glass. The night was out there and the darkness was in me. The past was smoke and the future still not here.