from island to isolation
wading through agony and anticipation
my eyes are the cracked underneaths of glass jarsleakingjust keeping leakingthey used to could stopbut now it seems they won't;corroding everythingno cleansing nocrystallising
but clogging
sluggish
stunted
shunting things further away; middle distance...advancing...creeping...off...
to the horizon...everything is stilted...brain fogging up like a car windshield's inside by teenagers' fucking.numb brrr; nothing's coming but the coldand all I have to look forward to is when the cold stopsand my brain and heart start workingand my soul comes back.
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