dreams of a lonely man

ventilate

this tower is falling...

i hear the eaves breaking down, pillars and foundations floundering. of course, its nothing really. nothing really happens. like michael tells me it's all in my head. imagination. fantasy.

then there is a groan, a sigh of wood and steele. it is a hollow sound, layered with the stress of the centuries, a transition of light and pain. It is a quiet thing.

She told me yesterday that she didn't need me.

It was a cold night and we, staring at the sunst somewhere over that Cormanian boundary, were discussing today, tomorrow, time and its final designations. There was such force behind the words, the tails of g's and the dots on j's stinging my cheeks, x's leaving red brands on my chest, a v imprinted on my heart. her name isn't even lettered that way. i tried to fend them off with b's and d's and so much to divert the blows that the curves of s's couldn't stop, only to leave a black and broken husk, only a pile of worthless e's comfort in the storm.

*dcj*