Maybe the circuits that line my brain come with breakers to prevent an overload in the mainframe. Or maybe I’m just a shit liar who couldn’t keep a straight face the one time it really mattered the most.
Now the snow’s really coming down, let it bury us beneath the ground. Into a place where time stands still, where we can rest our heads and sleep until Old Peter sounds.
Above the gas in Earth’s atmosphere, landscapes turn to simple shapes encased in shades of blue. We could drive through three whole states and only move an inch. Don’t you see how we could disappear and the world wouldn’t even blink?
Hiding in the back of my throat, under layers of winter coats, tender in the morning air, a thought that doesn’t want to be shared. But I don’t expect you to understand, “I love your eyes, my darling friend.”